If I Should Die Before I Wake
by TemperanceNova
Summary: If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Days bleed together, things get lost in the shuffle, but one things still remains constant-my love for you.
1. It's a Rental

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-HONK._

Dean flinched in the driver's seat, his hands lurching up to grab the steering wheel when he realized he'd been sitting at a green light for far too long. The person behind him had apparently grown impatient and laid on their horn and he almost reached out the window to flip him off...except he was too concerned about why he hadn't noticed the light changing in the first place. Checking the road just out of habit, he stepped on the gas and continued on down the road, watching his rearview mirror closely as the guy behind him ranted in his car, following along. How long had he been sitting there? He couldn't quite remember, but apparently it had been long enough to piss the guy off royally. It was just a green light, no one was going to die from missing a green light, but he was literally losing his shit.

He'd driven this highway every day for the last six years, he knew it like the back of his hand and for some reason, it looked different. Wider somehow, or maybe longer? He wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with it, or why he was even on it to begin with. It was mid-day, on his off day. He only took this highway going to and from work. So why was he there now? Maybe he'd forgotten something at the shop, or maybe they'd called him in? He couldn't quite remember, but he just kept driving. After a few miles, the driver behind him pulled off onto a side road and Dean was left alone on the highway. It was more peaceful like that, he could slow down a bit and just take his time. Savor it while he had the chance. Like he wouldn't be back on it again tomorrow.

The farther down the highway he drove, still wondering how it suddenly become so damn long, he spotted another car pulled off onto the shoulder, hood open and steam billowing up into the air. He very well could have kept driving, but there was something about it that caught his attention. He could see a figure sitting in the drivers seat as he pulled off onto the shoulder behind the four door blue Toyota. It was the newer model, certainly less charismatic than his '67 Chevy, but he didn't complain. He couldn't count how many new cars rolled through his shop every day. It was just something he had come to terms with, some people just didn't share the same passion for good cars that he did. Putting the car in park, he cut off the engine and stepped out of the car slowly. He had no way of knowing who the person was in the driver seat. If they were some kind of serial killer fishing for a victim or if it really was just some poor some of a bitch who'd blown out their radiator. As he inched closer to the driver side door, he could see the window was rolled down, the driver sitting with their head leaned back on the headrest, no doubt irritated to hell and back.

"Hey buddy, you alright in there?" he called out, watching as the driver flinched, hitting the horn slightly. Dean stood back, watching closely as the door swung open and man in a black suit stepped out. It was damn near ninety degrees out, he wasn't sure who the hell would leave the house wearing something like that, but he guessed he was a business man. His dark hair was ruffled, no doubt frazzled by being stranded on the side of an empty highway, bright blue eyes searching Dean's face for something. He was probably trying to gauge whether or not Dean was some kind of serial killer himself, driving around in an antique car with ripped up jeans and a band t-shirt on. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and maybe he had, he really couldn't recall. "You alright?" he asked again, gesturing to the car and the steam that was still going strong. He couldn't have had the engine off for more than five minutes or so.

The man turned and looked at the car for a moment, frowning as he turned back to face Dean and just shrugged his shoulders like he was completely lost. "I-I don't know what happened. It's a rental, I just-" the man rambled, gesturing between himself and the car. "It's not supposed to be smoking like that, is it?"

He smirked a bit, rounding the open door so that he could look at the engine. Leaning on the front end with one hand, he tried to wave some of the steam away to get a good look at what was going on. "It's not smoke, it's steam," he corrected, frowning when he couldn't get a good look at the problem, they'd have to wait for it to completely cool before they could do anything to fix it. "Looks like a busted radiator hose, but I can't be sure until it cools and I can check it. You call a tow service?" The man had followed him to the front end, shaking his head as Dean questioned him about a tow and he wondered if the guy should even be driving if he didn't know to call a tow truck when he was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

"My cellphone is dead," he admitted, pulling a sleek black phone from his pocket for Dean to see and he just shook his head lightly. "Everything has gone wrong from the moment I landed. They messed up my rental, so I got this instead just to get out of there. Lost my phone charger somewhere in the damn airport and now this! I'm late getting to my house to meet the moving truck, they've probably called me a million times already and here I am, stuck on the side of the road and-"

"Hey, hey buddy, calm down," Dean demanded, stepping back from the car and lowered the hood. The man watched him in confusion as he reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out, retrieving one of the business cards and passed it over to the guy. "I own a garage in town, I can have someone and come tow your ride in and we'll get it fixed in no time. If it's just a hose, it's an easy fix, like five minutes. You want me to give you a ride in?"

"Dean...Winchester?" the man muttered, reading off the name on the card.

"Yep, was my dad's garage before he passed. I was supposed to run it with my brother, but he went off to college, so it's just me and a couple other guys. We do pretty well, fairest prices in town."

The man nodded, tucking the card into his coat pocket as he turned toward the car, reaching inside to pull the keys from the ignition and shut the door. Dean watched him closely as he rounded to the trunk and opened it. He pulled out a large suitcase and sat it onto the ground. And then another suitcase. And another. Dean just shook his head, pulling out his own cellphone and hand dialed a number. His was a lot older than the sleek model the guy had pulled out but it did the job. He only had to wait for the phone to ring once before a grumpy voice echoed through the receiver.

"Winchester's, you break 'em, we fix 'em," the man grumbled and Dean rolled his eyes.

"We've really got to change that," he groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"'cuse me?"

"Bobby, its Dean. Hey look, tell Ash I need him out on highway ten. Towin' in a...'14 Toyota...what the hell is this thing-it's a damn blue Toyota. Only car out here on the shoulder headed into town. Busted radiator hose."

"Only you could find work on your day off, Dean..."

"Tell me about it man, just have Ash get his ass out here. I'm bringing the driver back in to the shop, you wanna go ahead and pull a new hose so I can fix it as soon as he gets it there?"

The line was silent for a moment, Bobby not speaking for a long time before he finally huffed loudly, papers shuffling around on the desk. "How pretty is she?" he asked and Dean started.

"W-What?"

"This girl Dean, how pretty is she? She's gotta be a sight if you're going through all this trouble for her."

Dean glanced down toward the trunk of the car where the man stood with his luggage, looking around the highway aimlessly. For some damn reason, he could feel his cheeks burning a bit as he stared down at him with wide eyes. "It's a dude, Bobby," he coughed, bringing his hand up to scratch the stubble on his cheek. When was the last time he left the house without shaving? "He just moved to town, everything went to shit, trying to cut him a break. Just, get Ash out here!"

He hung up the phone, stuffing it into his pocket before Bobby could say anything else and shook his head lightly. Was he really that bad that if he was helping someone, it had to be a pretty girl he wanted to sleep with? Sure he'd had his indiscretions, who hadn't really? But that didn't mean being a good samaritan meant he was just trying to get into the person's pants. He didn't care how attractive they were, even the utterly lost man standing at the end of the car.

"Jeeze dude, how many suitcases you got in there?" Dean chuckled, moving toward the end of the car and scooped up one of the suitcases, trying to shrug off the conversation with Bobby.

"I'm sorry, I just bought a house here," he huffed, grabbing the other two suitcases and following Dean to the trunk of his Chevy. "Castiel."

"Excuse you?" Dean muttered, popping open the trunk and blinking over at the guy in confusion as he moved to put the other suitcases into the trunk beside the first.

"My name is Castiel. Novak. It's a pleasure to meet you Dean Winchester."

"That's a weird name. _Castiel_." It didn't sound like a human name, more like something for an alien maybe, but he didn't elaborate on it, closing the trunk. "New in town huh? Why the move to Lawrence?"

"Work," Castiel answered automatically. It was almost too quick a response, like he had been waiting for the question to crop up. "I'm starting work tomorrow at the hospital."

"A doctor? Fancy. What are you, brain surgeon?" he muttered, not really all that interested, but trying to make conversation anyway. He didn't want the ride back into town to be awkward and Bobby's words bouncing around in his head were already shooting that to hell. Was he only going out of his way to help Castiel because he was a good looking man? Was that just how his brain decided to operate?

"Anesthesiologist, I'll be working mostly in the I.C.U with trauma patients," he sighed heavily, almost as if he were dreading it. Dean gestured to the passenger side of the car, thankful when Castiel just nodded and rounded the car to get in.

"You don't sound like you enjoy your job all that much," Dean stated as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "Why do it then?"

"It can just be depressing sometimes. I like my work, really I do. Most of the time, the other doctors can pull a person back, you know? Sometimes, they can't. And my job is to stand by and watch them go, trying to make it as comfortable for them as possible. There are good days and bad days, as with every job."

Dean nodded, checking his side mirror to make sure there were no cars coming down the highway as he pulled off of the shoulder and onto the road. He sure as hell knew all about good and bad days at work. There would be days when every car he worked on was a simple fix, then days where everything under the damn sun would go wrong and he'd go home with knots and bruises he didn't have before leaving the house. He'd broken bones and nearly lost an arm once. But he loved working on cars, so he always went back to it, no matter what.

"Good and bad days, yeah I know all about that...," he sighed, staring out the window blankly as they drove.

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Dean."

* * *

><p>Despite fearing the awkward silence on the drive back to the shop, the car stayed quiet and it was peaceful. There was something about Castiel that was just easy to be around without having to fill the space with words. Every now and again, he would glance across the bench seat at the man, his dark hair ruffled by the wind, staring off into the distance. It seemed like he was in deep thought, a frown etched onto his face that Dean felt was permanent. He hadn't seen the guy smile once since he'd met him. Of course he had a lot going on all at once, but it wasn't the end of the world. He'd get to his house and get his things put away, Dean would fix the hose on his car and it would be good to go in like ten minutes and he could always buy a new phone charger. It would all work out in the end.<p>

By the time they made it back, Ash had somehow miraculously collected Castiel's car, towed it back to the shop and was gone again before they even stepped out of the car. Bobby was elbow deep in the thing, pulling the old busted hose off as Dean lead Castiel over to the car. Bobby was a short older man, graying hair with a trucker hat crammed onto his head that Dean was sure was permanently attached. He had a short beard that collected more food than he cared to think about and a mean temper if you rubbed him the wrong way. But he was the closest thing to family Dean had aside from his brother and he couldn't have asked for a better mechanic to work with.

"Hey Bobby, almost done?" he muttered, leaning into the car, staring at the old hose. It had literally split in half like someone had taken a razor-blade to the damn thing. It was one of the reason he didn't trust rental cars, they did all sorts of shit to try and scam a person out of money. If Castiel had been in the middle of say, a busy intersection, and the car decided it was going to just give up on him because of the radiator hose he could have been in a serious accident. They may not get any money from Castiel directly thanks to insurance, but that would mean the poor guys rates would go up and he'd still be cheated out of cash in the long run. All that for a damn fifteen dollar fix.

"Almost done pullin' this piece o' crap hose off!" Bobby griped, holding the thing up for them to see. "Damn thing might as well be made outta play dough. Who the hell put this on your car son?"

Castiel fidgeted in place, his blue eyes jumping between Dean and Bobby sheepishly. Dean just stood back, crossing his arms over his chest and glared over at Bobby as he dropped the busted hose onto the shop floor and continued digging around in the engine, checking the other hoses and parts he could easily reach.

"It's...a rental," Castiel muttered, finally finding his voice. "I know absolutely nothing about cars."

"Well, I can see that," Bobby sighed, pulling himself back up out of the engine and looked at Dean wearily. Dean knew that look, it meant there was something wrong. He dropped his arms and waved his hand for Bobby to just get out whatever the bad news was. "It's an easy fix, really is, _if_ we had the part."

"What do you mean, we don't have the part? It's a damn radiator hose!" Dean snapped, frowning at the old man. "It's not like it's a hard part to get."

"No, it's not," Bobby growled back, a warning sound that meant Dean had no right to be snapping at him, even if he was technically the boss. Bobby was far older than he was and he'd been like an Uncle to him growing up. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that he would probably still be able to throw him over his knee and bust his ass if he got uppity with him. "We put the last one we had that would fit this radiator on a car yesterday. That Camry, remember?"

Dean reached a hand up to brush over his face roughly, turning to look at Castiel as he remembered the piece of shit Camry they'd replaced damn near everything on the day before. It belonged to some old crazy cat lady who didn't take care of it in the first place and her grandson wanted it fixed for her so he wouldn't have to chauffeur her around to get cat food anymore. They'd heard the whole damn sob story and it made Dean want to rip his teeth out with a rusty wrench at the time.

"Sorry Cas, it's gonna take a bit," he huffed, gesturing for him to walk back out of the shop and into the adjoining office area. "You want me to call you a cab to take you home and I'll go get the damn part myself?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side, staring at him in confusion for a moment before he glanced down at Dean's hand and noted that he was trying to usher him out of the shop. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it, turning to walk into the office slowly.

"Is it terribly expensive? Should I pay for it now?" Castiel asked, watching Dean closely as he rounded the corner of the counter and grabbed a pen and a notepad.

"Nah, it's like fifteen bucks dude. Don't even worry about it. How about you give me your number and we'll call it even?" Dean mumbled, shoving the pen and paper closer to the dark haired man with a smile. Castiel's eyes jumped between the paper and Dean's face, a pink blush creeping up over his cheeks and Dean just smiled wider. He'd always been a bit of a flirt, but in this particular moment, that hadn't been his goal. At least not yet. He reached up and pushed the paper a little closer, nodding toward it. "So I can call you when your car is fixed?"

Castiel jerked a little, reaching up quickly to grab the pen and knocked it back toward Dean's side of the counter. He was so flustered it was a little adorable, apologizing profusely as he snatched the pen up and jotted down his name on the paper, scribbling his number down under it. Dean just smirked down at the paper as he underlined the name "Castiel" twice and it finally occurred to him that maybe he'd stared at him in confusion before because Dean had shortened his name. Castiel just sounded too damn weird and it was easier to remember Cas. So Cas it was, for the short amount of time he knew the guy.

"That is my new home phone," he croaked, his voice a little strained. "And this is my cell. But that won't work until I get a new charger."

Dean nodded, pulling the paper back when Castiel had jotted down the second number and turned to pin it on the wall behind him. Scooting to the end of the counter, he scooped up the phone and hit the speed dial, listening intently for the cab service to pick up on the other end. It seemed to take forever and when the phone finally clicked over all he could hear was a steady beeping. It wasn't like an answering machine, the beeps too constant and continual, more like-

"Hello? Can I help you?" a woman suddenly snapped on the other end of the line and Dean blinked a few times to clear his head. Castiel was watching him in concern, no doubt hearing the woman snapping at him and Dean just cleared his throat and continued on with requesting a cab for the guy.

"Alright," Dean sighed, hanging up the phone. "I'm going to head out and get the part. When the cab get's here you tell them to put it on the shops bill and don't worry about a thing. I'll call you as soon as we get the car fixed and you can come pick it up tomorrow."

"Thank you, Dean Winchester," Castiel sighed, smiling at him softly. "You are a far more generous person than you let on."

"Hey, just call it a welcome to town gift. And don't tell anyone, they'll all think I've gone soft or something man."

Castiel chuckled lightly, walking outside with Dean as he headed to his car. The dark haired man stood by the door, waving lightly as he pulled the door open on his Chevy and prepared to lower himself inside. "Of course not, Dean. We wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."


	2. Off Days

Dean was lost. He was standing in the middle of the produce section of the local grocery store, a basket hanging from his arm almost painfully from the weight of the items he'd stuffed into it. He'd never been a fruits and vegetables type guy, but there he was, positioned right in front of the potatoes. He couldn't for the life of him remember what it was that would have brought him over to the produce, not in a million years. He blinked down at the rack of potatoes and then glanced up to see who all was surrounding him. A few feet away stood a tall brunette woman in a sleek dress, high heels clicking loudly on the floor as she walked, hips swaying lightly. _That_ was the reason! He smirked brightly, turning back toward the potatoes so that he was only staring at her out of the corner of his eye. When he glanced up again, she was gone, but there was someone else who'd caught his eye. Standing over in the bakery area with what seemed like perpetually messy hair, was Castiel. Dean frowned a bit, cocking his head to the side as he idly wondered how long it had been since he'd taken his car. Three, four days? Was it even fixed? He'd never called him to come get it.

It took him far too long to dig up the memory, Castiel's car was fixed, Bobby had done it personally and called him to come get it on Dean's off day. That was why he hadn't been there when he showed up to pick up his car. Even though he'd already had his off day when he'd come across Castiel on the side of the road in the first place. When was the last time he'd taken two days off in a week? He just shrugged it off and moved closer just to see what he was up to. He was standing in front of a selection of pies, staring at them as if they were all labeled in French and Dean shimmed up beside him quietly.

"Hard to pick just one, huh?" he whistled and Castiel started, jumping to the side a bit as his head whipped around to gawk at Dean. He just smiled over at him and waved innocently, Castiel patting his chest lightly as if Dean had damn near given him a heart attack.

"Dean! You startled me," he sighed sharply, glancing back at the pies as Dean leaned over to have a look. "There are a lot to choose from."

"Apple is the best, hands down. Unless you don't like apple. Then you got cherry, that's a close second," Dean chuckled, standing straight again to smirk at him. "Having a pie kinda day?"

Castile smiled softly, reaching down to scoop up a Dutch apple pie, double checking the date before he slid it into his own basket. He seemed to be shopping for essentials, all except for the pie. It was the only food item in the whole thing. "You could say that."

"How is the car treating you? Anymore problems?"

"Not a one," Castiel chuckled, turning to walk with Dean toward the check out lanes. He wasn't sure when he'd initiated the walk, it just seemed to happen and Castiel naturally fell in step with him. It was still a bit awkward how comfortable Dean was around him, like he had known the man for years, but he never complained. They just continued on their way as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "It was a shame you weren't there when I came to retrieve it. I would have liked to personally thank you. I was informed there was no charge, even for the services."

Dean nodded, plopping his basket down onto the shelf along side the self scan and started to ring up his items. Bread and lunch meats for sandwiches and chips. Castiel took the machine beside him and began scanning his own things, placing the pie carefully into a bag all it's own. "I told you not to worry about it, welcome to Lawrence gift and all. You were having a shitty day, figured something needed to go right."

"And I am eternally grateful for your help, Dean."

"Eternity is a long time, Cas," he snorted, shoving a twenty into the machine and waiting for his change to spit out. "Hey listen, are you gonna go get a real car? One of your own I mean, not a rental?"

Castiel swiped a card on the machine he was standing at, blinking over at Dean as his receipt spat out. "Eventually. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking, you don't seem to know much about cars," Dean mumbled, scooping up his bags once he had pocketed his change. He wasn't trying to make him feel stupid, it just wasn't something everyone was into. Just because Castiel was a dude didn't mean he had to automatically be a motor head like Dean. "Not that that's a bad thing, man. I just don't want you going out and getting a shitty car, y'know? Something you're going to have in the shop every three days or some shit. I was thinking, maybe I'd come with you. Take a look at things before you buy something."

Castiel smiled, his nose crinkling a bit and Dean couldn't help but think it looked entirely too adorable on a grown ass man. He scooped up his bags and nodded for Dean to follow him toward the doors before he spoke again. "I think that may be best. I would like for my mechanic to look at the car before I purchase it in the first place. Make sure everything is running properly before I commit."

"_Your_ mechanic?" Dean laughed as they made their way outside and Castiel just nodded at him enthusiastically. "Well alright then. When are you going to go looking?"

"When is your next day off?" Castiel asked, stopping suddenly and Dean realized they were already standing beside his black Chevy. It was a unique car to see rolling around these days, but he was amazed that Castiel remembered it so easily. He lifted the bag with the pie in it suddenly, extending it to Dean with a smiled on his face.

"What?" Dean asked, glancing down at the bag in confusion.

"It was for you in the first place. A gesture of thanks. Robert explained that you favored pie." Robert? Who the hell was Robert?

"Oh, you mean Bobby?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose a bit but taking the bag none the less. That was why he had suddenly picked out apple when Dean poked his nose into the situation. He had specifically stated that apple pie was the best, so that was what Castiel bought. "Y-Yeah I like pie. Thanks man, but uh, don't ever let Bobby hear you call him Robert."

Castiel nodded his head, watching Dean open the back door and sit his groceries and newly acquired pie in the floorboards so they didn't slide around on the seat. As soon as he shut the door, he rounded to the driver side door, peeling it open and waving at the dark haired man. Castiel nodded lightly and Dean slid into the seat, waiting to close the door until Castiel moved from the back so that he wouldn't accidentally back over the guy. Except he rounded to Dean's side of the car and crouched down a bit to see him better.

"You didn't answer me, Dean," he stated calmly and when Dean just blinked at him in confusion, he shook his head lightly. "When is your next day off so that we may go look at vehicles?"

"Uh, Wednesday? I think, not really sure," Dean blurted out, frowning when he honestly couldn't really remember what day it even was or when his next day off was scheduled.

"Tomorrow then? You'll call me? I trust you still have my phone number?" Dean nodded lightly, pulling his leg into the car as Castiel gripped the door and started pushing it closed slowly. "I will talk to you tomorrow, Dean Winchester."

Dean smiled at him softly as he shut the door, Castiel waving at him before he turned and headed off in whatever direction it was his car was parked. As soon as the dark haired man was out of sight, Dean shoved the keys into the ignition and turned the car on, waiting for a moment before he put it in reverse. The drive home was weird, too short and kind of blocky now that he tried to think back on it. He was just suddenly standing there in his kitchen, putting away the groceries that he'd bought with the pie Castiel had given him laid out on the counter. He'd gotten Dean a pie as a token of thanks and Dean couldn't help but shake his head at it. The guy was a little weird, kind of dorky, but in a good way and it made him smile. Moving over to the pie, he peeled the box open and pulled it out, grabbing a knife from the drawer and cut himself a slice. He didn't even bother putting it on a plate, snatching a fork up from the dish drainer and scooped up a bite form the slice he'd cut. The moment he shoved it into his mouth he knew there was something wrong. It wasn't exactly nasty, but it didn't really have much of a taste to it except it was distinctly apple. He gagged a bit, just because it wasn't at all what he was expecting, forcing himself to swallow the bite anyway. What kind of damn bakery made pies without any kind of sugar in them? Castiel had spent damn near eight dollars on that pie and it wasn't all that good. A rip off, honestly and Dean was going to have to remember to never buy pies from the grocery store again. But if Castiel asked, it was the best damn pie he'd ever had...

* * *

><p><em> It was hard to remember the last time he'd had a dream, even harder to remember the last time he'd had a nightmare. He was still laying in bed, unable to move as the steady sound of beeping slowly filled the room to an unbearable volume and he tried to scream out for someone to stop the noise. He felt like his ears were bleeding, eyes swiveling around in his skull as he tried to piece together where he was. Bland wallpaper, generic photos of flowers, florescent lights burning low. There was a machine perched next to his head and he instantly realized that it was the source of the noise. A little green line spiking rapidly as it scrolled across the screen and Dean instantly tried to lift his hand to knock it over. Anything to stop the shrill beeping.<em>

_ When his hand refused to move, he glanced down at his body, his lungs burning as he gasped in sharp breaths. He was covered in blood, his hands mangled beyond recognition and his arms and legs covered in deep maroon lacerations. The beeping suddenly stopped as did the burning in his lungs and Dean faintly registered it was because his own heart had stopped, his breath caught somewhere in his throat and the edges of his vision slowly started fading to black. He wanted to call out for help, to scream for someone, but there was no sound and he found himself praying to God for the first time in his life that someone would help him. He was in pain and he was scared and he didn't even understand why._

"Dean! Dean, can you hear me?" a voice shouted suddenly and Dean blinked rapidly, the vision of Castiel standing before him suddenly breaking through and he looked petrified. "Dean?"

Dean was standing beside his car, leaned back on the hood with his arms crossed over his chest, facing a lot full of cars. He'd promised Castiel that he would meet him at the car lot to help him find a good car and he'd shown up just like he said he would. But Castiel had been late, so he stood by his car and waited. What he couldn't understand was why the guy looked downright pale and freaked out, his hands reaching out for Dean like he was trying to keep him steady. Dean just smirked at him and pushed away from his car, watching as Castiel slowly took a step back, eyeing him warily.

"You're late," he muttered, arching an eyebrow as Castiel's blue eyes raked over his body several times in search of something. "Why you lookin' at me like that, man? You gotta buy me dinner at least once before you can start starin' like that."

"I-I'm sorry, I just-" Castiel rambled, quickly averting his eyes. "I thought there was something wrong."

"Nope, just killin' time. You ready to get looking? I drove around the lot a few times before I parked, there are some nice cars in the back. That's a little more on the pricy end, but they're damn good for the newer models," Dean sighed, starting off across the lot without even really waiting for Castiel to follow along. He'd apparently caught on however, because when Dean turned to look back at him, he was only a few steps behind. He was still watching Dean closely, like he expected him to collapse or something and it made him wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep standing or something before he'd started shouting at him. "Any thoughts?"

"I just want a good car, Dean. I don't think cost should be an issue for reliability," Castiel muttered, following along behind him. "Whatever you think is best."

Dean nodded lightly, making his way through the rows of cars toward the back of the lot, ducking down to glance into random cars as they moved through the lot. Castiel kept close to him as they walked and Dean tried to ignore the way he kept lurching toward him whenever Dean moved too fast. He stopped worrying about it by the time he'd reached the line of sleek silver cars near the back of the lot, chalking it up to his profession. Castiel was in the medical field and if Dean was spacing out as often as he thought he was, it probably looked like he was ill to the man. He stopped near an Infiniti sedan, crouching down to stare in the window and smiled. When he turned to see if Castiel was even the slightest bit interested in it he found the dark haired man still staring at him worriedly.

"Cas, what is wrong-" he started, his words cutting off as he saw a tall woman stroll past behind him, the edges of her faded like a dream. She was wearing scrubs, like she'd walked right out of a hospital and Dean followed her with his eyes. It wasn't until her form faded away between the cars that Dean blinked, turning back to look at Castiel in complete shock.

"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel asked, reaching out to grab him by the upper arm and he was thankful for the support. His knees nearly gave out, his brain far too focused on trying to process what he'd just seen to keep his body under proper control. "Dean, tell me about the car."

Castiel voice urged him through the fear that was quickly spreading through his limbs, his eyes darting between the row of cars where the nurse had vanished and back to the silver Infiniti beside him. "It-it's a good car. They make good cars," he muttered, finding his legs again slowly. He wanted to ask the dark haired man if he'd seen it, but he wasn't exactly sure himself what he had even seen. So he focused on the only thing he knew about-the car beside them. "It's not going to crap out on your after a few years, if you keep up with regular fluid changes it'll last you years. Probably be able to hand it down to your kids with the right maintenance."

"And you'll help me with it?" Castiel asked, finally removing his hand from Dean's arm. "You will help me keep it running properly, Dean?"

Dean nodded absently, turning back to look over the car. He reached out and pressed his palm flat onto the hood, feeling the warmth of the metal from the midday sun and slowly rounded to the driver side door, popping it open. At first it seemed a little strange to him that he could get into the car without a key, but he decided to just go with it in light of all the weird shit that was going on. All he wanted to do was pop the hood and take a look at the engine. When he moved back to the front of the car and shoved his hands under the lip of the hood, he found the latch and popped it open easily, pushing it up so that he could prop it open and just stared down at the engine. It was pristine, brand new even. He wondered if it had more than twenty miles on it just from being driven onto the truck from the factory and back off again onto the lot.

Castiel watched him closely, leaning onto the car beside him without really looking at the car at all as Dean pulled and poked at all the hoses and belts. Everything was clean and brand new, the belts snug and in place. When he pulled out the dipstick for the oil, it was a pretty amber color that meant it was new and he carefully shoved it back in. Antifreeze was full, washer fluid full. The tires were all brand new and inflated properly. Not a single scratch on it. He just stood back for a moment and gestured to the car before crossing his arms over his chest and nodded.

"It's a good, solid car, Cas. She's brand new. Not as much character as my Baby, but it's still good," he huffed, smiling a bit when Castiel turned to finally look at the car and nodded in approval himself.

"Then I will purchase this car," Castiel muttered, watching Dean again as he lowered the hood and let it fall shut loudly.

"You sure you don't wanna look at any others? Something in another color?"

"No Dean, I trust your judgment on these things. And it is obviously brand new, I doubt it could have very many flaws. I will admit that it lacks the pleasing aesthetic your car has, but I do not believe I could keep up with the particular maintenance that an antique car like yours requires."

"She is a full time job," Dean nodded, leading him toward the office building off toward the side of the lot. He'd have a ton of paper work to fill out, not to mention a credit check and more forms to fill out. They'd be there for hours and while the act of buying a car was particularly boring, Dean didn't mind hanging around with him. "But she's worth it."


	3. To The Bone

Dean had taken to marking days on the calendar. Days were bleeding into one another and while he had faint memories of the things he'd did on those days, that's all they were. Faint memories he really couldn't pin down. It was like being unable to remember what you'd eaten last week for lunch, except it pertained to _everything_. The only days that were crisp in his mind were the days he'd seen Castiel. Right after the dark haired main had purchased his car, Dean hadn't seen him for a couple of weeks and he couldn't have recalled what happened in those two weeks if you played it back for him. But he slowly started seeing him around town, again at the grocery store, at a gas station once where Dean scolded him on putting the cheap grade of gas in his brand new car, and once at the shop when he'd managed to puncture his rear tire with a nail on the highway. Dean could remember those times as clear as a bell and it was starting to concern him.

Every day that he ran into Castiel he would mark the calendar on his refrigerator with a bright blue "C". At first it was a sporadic thing, then all of a sudden it was once or twice a week, and finally it was every day. They had started having breakfast together every morning at a diner just up the street from Dean's garage. The coffee was good and he couldn't complain about the extra crispy bacon that was always stashed on his plate whether he ordered it or not, compliments of the cook. It helped that Bobby was long time best friends with the owner of the place, not that Dean would ever brag about it. At first Castiel never ate. He would just and talk to Dean as he ate his own breakfast until Dean started questioning him about it. He had made the excuse at first that he'd come off the night shift at the hospital and he'd already had what would technically be considered breakfast, but when Dean started complaining about being the only one eating, he started skipping food at work so that he could eat with him in the diner.

They fell into an easy sort of rhythm, Dean giving the dark haired man his own personal cell phone number so that he could reach him if he needed to. They'd even started texting back and forth whenever Castiel was on one of his horribly long fourteen hour shifts. Those were the times when Dean felt restless. He could be sitting in the shop, Bobby and Ash working on a car not even three feet from him and feel completely alone. They could all be carrying on a conversation and Dean felt that it was empty. Just sound to fill the silence. Until Ash started poking fun at him for missing his new "boyfriend". The mullet-wearing-redneck-computer nerd had no room to poke fun at anyone else. He was weird beyond belief and he could do things with a computer that would probably stump the pentagon. Bobby opted to stay out of the boyfriend talk all together and Dean was thankful. He and Castiel were not dating. Not by any definition of the word. Except they texted one another all day, they ate breakfast together in the same diner and Dean had even mentioned just doing their grocery shopping together so that he wouldn't feel so alone walking the aisles by himself. They _weren't_ dating.

"Dean! Boy, what the hell are you doin'?" Bobby shouted suddenly, causing Dean to look up from the muffler he was patching, sizing up a square of sheet metal to make sure he had enough room to work. The old man was marching toward him, grabbing him by the wrist and jerked him away from his work.

"Bobby, what the hell-" he griped, eyes jumping to his hand when Bobby held it up in his face, bright red blood trailing down his thumb freely. He frowned at it, wondering why it didn't even hurt and Bobby was tugging him over to the bench where they kept the first aid kit handy for just such an occasion. "Guess I cut it on the sheet metal. Didn't even feel it..."

"That's because you got your damn head in the clouds. If you can't get yourself out of this funk, maybe you need to take a vacation," Bobby grumbled, pulling out a bottle of peroxide and poured it unceremoniously over Dean's hand. The liquid was cold and it made him flinch a bit, watching as the blood washed away from his skin to reveal a fairly deep cut that was fizzing slightly from the peroxide. "You're daydreamin' about him too much."

"I was not daydreaming. Especially not about Cas," he mumbled, knowing that wasn't completely true. He'd been thinking about asking him to come out with him to a bar on one of his nights off. Just to wind down and try to get a hold on whatever the hell was happening with his life. A few beers between friends was nothing to him, but apparently it meant more to the people around him.

"Yeah? Well, you can tell that to him when you see him here in a few. This needs stitches. Ya gotta go to the emergency room," Bobby huffed, wrapping his thumb tightly in a wad of gauze and nodded toward the door. "C'mon, I'll drive ya."

He couldn't remember the last time he was in an emergency room and quite honestly he really didn't want to think about it. Dean was left sitting in the hard plastic chairs as Bobby talked to the nurse behind the counter, filling out forms for him like his father just because Dean's hand was cut and he couldn't fill them out himself. It was a long and tedious process, but he was amazingly pulled back into one of the rooms fairly quickly. He was told to wait by the lady that lead him back, that someone would be in to see him soon. Dean sat on the end of the exam bed, dangling his feet like a five year old as he stared at the blood steadily soaking through the gauze wadded around his thumb. It was apparently a pretty bad gash, but he just couldn't _feel_ it. When the door creaked open again, Dean glanced up from his hand to see a man standing in the doorway, all dark hair and scruff-dressed in dark blue scrubs-as he mumbled something to a nurse outside the room. He wasn't sure what he should have expected, it was where the guy worked after all, there was a good chance of running into him.

"Cas-" he scoffed, watching as the dark haired man turned to face him with wide eyes. He seemed just as shocked to see Dean as he was, frowning worriedly as he inched his way into the room. "Fancy seein' you here."

"Dean, what are you doing here?" he asked softly, peering down at the file he'd brought in with him along with a syringe. "You've sliced your hand open? Let me see..."

Dean watched him closely as he dropped the file onto the counter, moving closer to the bed with the syringe still in hand. He didn't hesitate to lift his hand, holding it up for Castiel to see. He already had a pair of gloves on, sitting the syringe on the bed next to Dean's leg as he slowly peeled the gauze away to frown at his hand.

"This cut, it's very deep," he said with a heavy sigh. "What on earth did you do?"

"Patching a muffler at the shop, sheet metal, must have sliced it right open," he explained, watching Castiel closely as he turned his hand back and forth to get a full look at the gash. "It's funny, it doesn't even hurt. Didn't even know it happened until Bobby said something."

Castiel glanced up at him in confusion, letting go of his hand so that he could turn toward the counter and pulled out a small sealed package. When he returned to the bed, he slowly peeled the package open, removing an antiseptic wipe and a small hooked needle and thread. It was a suture kit. Once he had everything laid out, he wiped Dean's thumb as clean as he possibly could and grabbed for the syringe, uncapping it carefully before he grabbed Dean's wrist with his free hand to keep him steady.

"You didn't feel any pain? You don't feel anything now?" Castiel asked seriously, poking the tip of the needle into his skin gently and pressing the plunger down a bit before he moved to a new spot and repeated the action until the syringe was empty.

"Nope, nothing. Guess it's you, huh?" Castiel jerked his head up to stare at him in shock, stepping back so that he could throw the syringe into the red bio-hazard box screwed into the wall beside the counter. "I'm just joking man, calm down."

"You're just in shock, Dean. You've cut it right down to the bone near the tip of your thumb," Castiel said quietly, grabbing for the needle and the suture thread. He didn't feel like he was in shock, he actually felt really calm despite everything and now that Castiel was there-even though he was currently threading a needle through his skin-he wasn't even concerned about his memory gaps.

"Hey, will you go out with me?"

Castiel flinched a bit, looking up at him in confusion. It was almost like he had was having a hard time believing the words that had come out of Dean's mouth. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but there was really no other way to do it other than to just say it. If he hadn't, he probably would have just sat on the question for the rest of his life. It was just a few beers at a bar, nothing serious. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. "Dean Winchester, tell me you did not cut your hand open as a means to ask me out," he demanded and Dean just stared back at him seriously.

"What? No, it was accident. I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing," he mumbled, still staring at the dark haired man as he went back to work. He had sewn up Dean's thumb faster than he was sure any human should have been able to, using another disinfecting wipe to clean off the residual blood and turned back to the counter to retrieve a roll of bandages. When he started to wrap his finger tightly Dean realized that he wasn't going to answer him, that he was just going to let the question go unanswered and it made his heart throb painfully in his chest. "So, that's a no then?"

Castiel still didn't answer him, wrapping his thumb and hand snugly, tucking the bandages into themselves so that they wouldn't come undone. He was deathly silent and it made Dean think that he'd overstepped his bounds. He tried to think back to what it was that he could have said wrong, maybe he'd worded it wrong. It was like he was asking Castiel out on an actual date. Or to be his boyfriend. That wasn't exactly how he meant it, or at least he wouldn't admit to himself that was how he'd meant it. And when he turned away again to peel off his gloves, Dean caught him by the upper arm and pulled him back.

"Cas, I didn't mean-" he started, stopping when Castiel turned to face him again, still peeling off his gloves.

"I will have them write you a prescription for some pain medication. You're going to want to take some time off of work, you have to keep the wound clean and change the bandages at least once a day if they're not soiled," Castiel sighed, glancing up at him. "If you promise to take better care of yourself, I will agree to go out with you."

Dean dropped his arm in shock, blinking at him as he turned toward the door, scooping his file up as he went so that he could jot something down in it and just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone again, leaving the door open. He just sat there, staring at the open door as a small smile spread over his lips. It was a small victory for the price he paid, but he'd take it. Cutting open his hand had been just about the best thing that had happened to him all damn week.

* * *

><p>He was actually having a difficult time picking out what to wear. The only nice clothes that Dean Winchester owned was the one suit he'd worn to his dad's funeral. He sure as hell wasn't wearing that to go hang out with Castiel on a Saturday night. Most of his jeans were torn or stained with oil from working at the shop and his shirt selection didn't span beyond old rock bands or flannels. He wondered why the hell he'd never thought to keep a good set of clothing off to the side for just such an occasion. Normally he didn't worry about what he wore because he'd never really had trouble attracting attention no matter what he was wearing, but something told him that just wasn't going to cut it with the dark haired doctor.<p>

After several long minutes of digging through his closet for a third time he found a pair of jeans that weren't torn to hell and back, still unstained and a light grey henley. It was as good as he was going to get and it still looked casual enough to hang around a bar in. Once he was sure he had something half decent to wear, he dove into the shower and scrubbed himself as clean as he possibly could with a wounded hand. He was forced to hold one arm up out of the water at all times, washing awkwardly. While the cut hadn't hurt at the time, over the few days that followed it began to ache terribly and he'd actually had to resort to taking the pain medication he was prescribed. He'd gone into work to do some paperwork one day-which Bobby bitched to no end about-and hit the tip of his thumb on the desk and caused it to start bleeding again. That had been a pretty bad pain day.

Driving had been somewhat of an issue too. Normally he drove with his left hand on the wheel, but now that it hurt to put too much pressure on it, he had to use his right and he kept fidgeting to try and find a comfortable position. By the time he actually made it to the bar he'd finally managed to find a half decent way of driving, but by then it was too late. He parked his car and stepped out, scanning the parking lot for Castiel's car. It was nowhere to be seen and he kept telling himself that the guy was perpetually running late, that he wasn't standing him up. And so what if he _did_ stand him up? He'd still have a few beers and head home like he had planned all along. He knew everybody at the Roadhouse after all, it wasn't like he'd really be alone.

The inside of the building was pretty quiet, for a bar. There were people playing poker around the far tables, pool near the back and a large horseshoe shaped bar right in the middle of it all. He scanned the crowd over, just to be sure Castiel wasn't there and he'd just missed his car coming in, but there was no one that faintly resembled the dark haired man. Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward the bar and pulled himself up onto one of the stools, shrugging off his leather jacket so that it draped over the backrest. It was too damn hot for long sleeved shirts and jackets, he had to push the long sleeves up past his elbows just to get a bit more comfortable and slowly pulled his phone from his pocket. They'd agreed over text where to meet and what time to be there, so Dean scrolled back through his messages to be sure he didn't misread something. Roadhouse - nine o'clock on the dot. He'd even given Castiel directions that really couldn't be fucked up if you were _trying_ to get lost. Glancing up at the clock it read ten after...maybe he was just running late.

"Is that Dean Winchester sitting all by himself at the end of the bar?" a warm female voice scoffed and he didn't need to look up to know it was Ellen Harvelle. She owned the bar with her husband. They had a pretty little blonde haired daughter named Jo that now owned the diner in town he and Castiel ate at every morning. "Someone stand you up?"

Dean shook his head, sitting his phone down on the bar top and glanced up at the brunette woman with a soft smile. She slid a glass across the bar toward him, picking up a bottle of dark colored liquor from behind the bar and poured a bit into his glass. He hadn't planned on drinking too heavily, but in light of the current situation, one couldn't hurt. He reached out to take the glass, nodding his head as he tipped it back and slid it back across the bar toward her.

"How's Jo?" he asked with a slight hiss from the burn of the whiskey. "Haven't seen her at the diner for a few days."

"Vacation. Went off to Miami to get some real sun," Ellen mumbled, pouring him another shot which he gladly accepted. "What happened to your hand?"

Dean hummed under his breath, tipping back the glass again and glanced down at his bandaged hand. It was just a bitter reminder that Castiel wasn't there when he said he would be. "Sliced it open, sheet metal at work," he shrugged, rolling the empty glass around in his good hand.

"You alright, Dean? Really?" Ellen asked quietly, ducking her head down a bit to actually look him in the eye. "You're lookin' kinda pale there sweetheart."

"Great, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Ellen shrugged her shoulders, reaching out to take the whiskey glass from him gently and sat it down behind the counter. He could hear her slide open the cooler, pulling up a cold bottle of beer and popped the cap off on the side of the bar top before she slid it toward him and just smiled at him sadly. Without another word she was gone, headed off to the other end of the bar to wait on some muscle bound biker dude who had more tattoos than he could count on his arms. Dean sipped at his beer, glancing down at his phone and he wondered if he should text Castiel. Ask him where he was. Or why he even bothered to agree to meeting him there if he was just going to stand him up in the first place. He could have said no, Dean wouldn't have blown up at him or anything for it, the guy was free to make his own choices. But trailing someone along seemed a little cruel and unnecessary.

By the time he'd finished his first beer, Castiel still hadn't shown. He kept watching the clock, twenty after, thirty after...nothing. Ellen didn't ask him any more questions thankfully, even though he knew that she understood what was going on. Another beer later, he'd had enough. There was no point in going to a bar and drinking alone unless you were just a sad sack of shit. Sliding down out of his stool, he wiggled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He waved Ellen down, paying for his drinks and pulled his jacket on. Castiel was forty-five minutes late and that was long enough for Dean to believe that he just wasn't coming. He'd probably only said yes in the first place because Dean was hurt when he'd asked. Maybe he was only showing up for breakfast every morning because he felt like he owed him something after helping him with his car. He'd never expected anything in return, maybe he should have made that clearer.

Cramming his good hand down into his pocket he worked his way toward the door, ignoring the burning in his thumb as he pushed past another body coming in through the door. He bumped into them, hearing them curse lightly under their breath. "Sorry man," he huffed, readjusting his path so that he could get out without touching them again.

"Dean? Dean wait," the man gasped, a strong hand catching him by the upper arm. When he finally looked up, he met Castiel's wide blue eyes. He honestly didn't expect him to show up and especially not like this. "Please, don't go. I know-I'm late-I-I couldn't figure out what to wear and then when I left the house I left my damn phone behind and I couldn't remember the directions and I couldn't go back home because I was already so late I am so sorry please don't go."

He stood there gawking at him, listening to the words tumbling out of his mouth in a ramble. He'd never heard him lose his composure before and he would have been lying if he said it wasn't downright adorable. Dean felt like shit for being stood up, but now he was having a hard time being upset at all. Castiel was there and he was begging him not to leave him. Who was he to tell him no? He just nodded his head lightly, blinking a bit when Castiel sighed in relief and tugged him farther into the bar. Once they were back inside the bar, Castiel stood by his side, looking at Dean for direction on where they needed to sit. Dean lifted his good hand and gestured to a booth near the back end of the bar where they could sit and be left alone. He let Castiel walk ahead of him, taking a moment to look at what the guy was actually wearing. He had on a tan trench coat and dark pants, they kinda of looked like the same pants he was wearing when they first met on the side of the road weeks ago and he smirked a bit thinking he'd picked out a suit to wear.

When they reached the booth, Castiel shucked off his jacket, revealing that he was indeed wearing the same black suit and Dean shook his head, pulling his own jacket off. He tossed it into the booth and slid onto the seat, watching Castiel as he repeated the action, sitting far more rigid in the seat across from him. He sat his hands on to table top, linking his fingers together and opened his mouth to say something before he slowly closed it. He repeated the action several times and Dean just waited patiently for him to get out whatever it was he was going to say. He'd waited for nearly an hour for the guy, what was a few more moments?

"I really am sorry that I kept you waiting for such a long time, Dean," Castiel finally said, almost as if he were reading Dean's mind. "I had every intention of being here at nine, I swear it. I just allowed things to get away from me."

Dean scoffed a bit, still unable to get over the way the guy talked. He was like a damn walking dictionary that could talk. He almost preferred the way he'd ranted back at the door, but then he wouldn't have been Castiel if he talked like that all the time. Dean raised his hand, waving it toward Ellen at the bar and when he caught her attention he held up two fingers and she nodded over at him. "It's fine, Cas," he chuckled, leaning back on his seat with his arm draped over the back.

"No, it most certainly is not. I made an agreement to meet you and I didn't adhere to that. I should have called you when I realized I was going to be late. I should have-"

"Cas!" Dean snapped, smacking his good hand on the table and the dark haired man flinched a bit. "I said it's fine, man. Drop it. You're here now so there's no harm done."

Castiel nodded stiffly as Ellen approached their table and passed out two beers silently, she didn't even stick around to hear Castiel mutter thank you before she was walking away and leaving them to their little corner of the bar. Dean grabbed his beer, holding it out across the table toward Castiel and the dark haired man watched him in confusion. He had to jab the bottle toward him again for him to get the hint, scooping up his own bottle and reached out with it to clank against Dean's.

"To not getting stood up by a doctor?" Dean asked and Castiel frowned darkly. "I'm joking-to uh-new friendships? And not getting stood up by a doctor."

"Dean!"

"What? I honestly thought you weren't going to show. I was about two steps from driving home and crying myself to sleep with a half gallon of ice cream, dude. I was heart broken."

Castiel rolled his eyes, sensing the sarcasm dripping from Dean's voice and brought his bottle to his lips and took a long drink. He instantly made a face, glancing down at the bottle with his nose all scrunched up and Dean almost choked on his own beer at the sight of it. Of course Castiel wouldn't be much of a drinker, the guy seemed as straight-edged as they came. He was a collage boy, a doctor for crying out loud, that took a lot of damn discipline. Things that Dean could never hope to accomplish. Book smarts had never been his thing, he was more of a pull things apart and put them back together kind of guy. He wasn't like his little brother, book smart and sharp witted. Dean was the idiot in the family.

"Not a big drinker?" he asked softly, taking another drink of his beer.

"No, I cannot say that I am," Castiel muttered, taking a smaller sip of his so that he wouldn't overwhelm himself again. "It is certainly an acquired taste."

"Yeah, it kinda is. You want a coke or somethin' instead?"

Castiel shook his head lightly, taking another drink and handling it a bit better. They fell into that comfortable silence that always seemed to consume everything whenever they were together. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't exactly sure what he had expected with them going out to a bar together. There was nothing to do in a bar but play pool and drink. Or talk. But they never really talked that much. Dean's eyes scanned the back of the bar, spotting an empty pool table near the bar and he smirked, nodding his head across the room.

"You play pool?" he asked, Castiel tilting his head for a moment before he followed his gaze. He shook his head no, but Dean was already sliding out of his seat and Castiel followed along behind him automatically. "It's easy, here."

Dean reached over to pull his beer out of his hand, setting it on a table off to the side of the pool table, and walked over to the rack of pool cues hanging on the wall. He'd played pool there so many times, hustling less experienced players for money that he knew which cues were better, pulling two of the straightest ones down off the wall and held it out toward Castiel. He seemed confused by it, but took it from Dean's hand none the less and held it close to himself, glancing around at the other pool table where two truckers were in the middle of a game.

"Rules are simple. We'll start with eight ball," Dean sighed, smirking as he rounded up the balls onto one end of the table, leaning over and using his forearms as sort of a make-shift rack, positioning the balls into a triangle formation. "White ball is the cue ball. You knock it into the other's and try to sink them into any one of the pockets."

Picking up his cue he gestured to each of the six pockets, waving the white ball in his other hand for Castiel to see before he moved to the opposite end of the table and set up the first shot. Castiel watched him intently, like he was studying for a test as Dean lined up the shot and took the break. There was a loud cracking sound that caused Castiel to jerk back from the table a bit, watching in awe as the colorful billiards sailed around the table, three sinking into random pockets around the table.

"First shot's a break. If you sink any of the balls you get either solids or stripes. Unless you knock them both in and then you get to pick whichever you prefer. I'll take stripes, so that means you shoot for solid colors and _only_ solid colors. Whatever you do, avoid the eight-ball, that's the black one. You knock that in before all of your other colors are cleared and you lose. Eight-ball is always last. Got it?" The look on Castiel's face told him that he seriously didn't get it. He just kept glancing between their table and the other one, trying to understand what the hell he was doing. Technically, it was Dean's shot still, but he decided for educational purposes that he would let the dark haired man have a go, setting his cue against the wall and rounded the table to stand behind Castiel. "Here, like this. You hold the cue like this and lean down over the table, aim for a ball that looks like it'll go into a pocket easy."

It was a little strange helping another man lean over a table, guiding his hands so that he pulled the cue far enough back and pushed it forward against so that he knocked the cue ball into the purple ball across the table and it instantly thunked into the corner pocket. Dean stepped back, allowing Castiel to straighten up as well and he just smiled down at the table. Apparently Dean had found something that caught his interest, now they just had to perfect his technique and they had all night to do it. After he got a few beers in the guy he was a bit more relaxed, he was actually nailing shots on the pool table, even though were technically Dean's stripes and not his own solids, but he never corrected him. There would be a time for strict rules later, now they were just fucking around and having fun doing it.

By the time Ellen kicked them both out into the chilly night air, Castiel was half tripping over himself and Dean wasn't fairing much better even though he was trying to hold the dark haired man up on his own feet. Neither one of them were in much condition to be driving home and their cars were the only two left in the lot aside from Ellen's. He really didn't think of it as a problem until Castiel dug his keys from his pocket and tried to start off across the lot toward his car.

"Hey! Whoa Cas," he gasped, laughing a bit under his breath as he caught the man under his elbow. "You can't drive home!"

Castiel turned to glance at him then back over to his car, shaking his head. "I wasn't goin' to Dean. Was gonna sleep in it," he huffed, trying to tug his arm free of Dean's hand and failing.

"Okay, no. You're not sleeping in your car dude, look-" he grumbled, licking his lips roughly. "My house, five blocks that way. We can walk and come back in the morning for the cars when we've sobered up a bit."

He could see the gears turning in Castiel's brain. He seriously hoped that he wouldn't tell him no for the simple fact that he didn't want him to spend a night sleeping in his car. He knew from experience that it was terribly uncomfortable and if he woke up with a hangover and a stiff back it was going to be all sorts of hell in the morning. He was offering the guy a couch to sleep on and nothing more.

"Well alright then, let's go see where Dean Winchester lives!" Castiel demanded, trudging off in the direction Dean had pointed fast enough to jerk him along with him.

It was comical to watch Castiel march down the street with clumsy feet, stumbling over every other crack in the pavement and catching himself on thin air before he started off again. Dean just followed along behind him having to tell him left or right as they went until they were at his front door. Castiel was more interested in looking around the front of the modest single story brick home than following Dean into the house. He had to reach out and grab him by the front of his trench coat, tugging him into the house.

"Alright, couch pulls out into a bed, so you got a place to sleep, bathroom is first door on the left, kitchen is in there," he rambled, pointing off in directions of the house.

Castiel just nodded at him, shrugging off his trench coat and suit jacket as he moved toward the couch and literally face planted onto the couch. Dean just stood there for a moment, staring down at him in awe. He was literally down for the count and it was amazingly adorable. He could already hear him snoring softly and he just shook his head. Tossing his jacket onto the chair beside the front door, he shuffled past the back of the couch, stopping for a second to drop the blanket that was draped over the back down onto Castiel's back and headed straight to his bedroom. Almost being stood up aside, it was a pretty good night. Hopefully the morning would be just as good.


	4. Starved For Affection

_Dean was well aware of what sleep paralysis was. He'd never known anyone that suffered from it personally, but there had been a special on it on TV one time and he actually sat down and watched it. It was kind of freaky and he was thankful at the time that he didn't have the condition. He supposed that was as close as he could describe what he suffering from now. He was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his own bedroom as the room echoed with that horrible beeping sound. He couldn't lift his arms or legs, unable to even lift his head. All he could manage was to look around the room slowly, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Everything looked normal, his bedroom exactly how it was when he'd laid down to go to bed after coming in from the bar. He was blaming this on the alcohol and swore he was never going to drink again if this was the kind of shit that he had to deal with afterward._

_ While he wasn't too fond of not being able to move, it didn't seem all that bad, there were no horrible images of monsters looming over him trying to rip him apart. Just that damned beeping sound coming from seemingly nowhere, a sound that he was slowly becoming more and more familiar with and that bothered him more than not being able to move. When he heard the bedroom door creak open, he tried to look down to see who the hell was coming in, maybe it was Castiel, coming to check on him. Then he could wake him up or something, he was a doctor, he would understand what the hell was going on with him. He made a mental note to ask him about the weird dreams the moment he woke up. But the small view he had of the door revealed nothing but the dark hallway beyond it, no one was coming into the room that he could see and he could feel his heart rate pick up as well as the incessant beeping. The door continue to creak open by some unseen force and Dean realized this was where his sleep paralysis was about to take a turn for the worse. It was going to be some kind of damn horror show he wouldn't be able to escape._

_ When the door finally stopped opening, he could see straight down the dark hall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to work words out of his throat. He couldn't seem to open his mouth either and all he wanted to do was scream for Castiel to come and help him, slap him awake, something. There was a cool breeze that brushed over his skin, causing little goose bumps to spring up everywhere it touched and he wished he had pulled the blankets over himself when he laid down. Something ice cold wrapped around the wrist of his injured hand and he wanted to jerk it away, but he remained still. It took him a moment to work his eyes over to that side of the bed, his heart thudding pathetically in his chest when he realized there was a woman standing beside his bed. She was dressed in dark gray scrubs, holding his arm up gently over the side of the bed, the same damn nurse he'd seen at the car lot when they picked out Castiel's Infiniti. She pulled a syringe from the pocket on the front of her scrubs and Dean panicked. She was going to stick him with something and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In his mind he wash thrashing back and forth on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs for help until his throat burned, but his body never responded._

_ He never felt the needle enter his skin, but he could see it, right in the crease of his elbow, watching in horror as she pushed the plunger down and withdrew the needle slowly. She just stood there hold his arm from a second, glancing over her shoulder toward his dresser before she gently laid his arm back down and slowly made her way back out of the room, closing the door as she went. He thought that maybe things would get better once she left, but the edges of the room started to fade the longer he laid there, a numbing cold running up from the crease of his arm and across his chest. He was afraid that it was going to stop his heart-the beeping the filled the room growing louder and louder again and suddenly he couldn't even breath. He just laid there on his back, gasping for air silently, frozen and petrified that he was about to die alone in his bedroom._

"Dean! Dean, please wake up!"

He was mildly aware of someone shaking him, strong arms gripping his shoulders and a voice shouting for him to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding with a hangover threatening to turn everything into a painful experience, but he forced himself through it to focus on the being that was hovering over him. Castiel was staring down at him, worry etched onto his face and Dean just blinked up at him in confusion. He had left him passed out on the couch, so why was he now in his room? He tried to think back to the night before, going over every detail of them coming into the house to be sure they hadn't ended up in the same bed somehow.

"Cas? What are you doin' in here?" he muttered, reaching up to brush his had over his face, hissing when he realized it was his wounded hand.

"You were calling out in your sleep Dean," Castiel whispered, stepping back once he saw that he was indeed awake. "You were...shouting. I thought something was wrong. When I knocked you didn't answer, I apologize for coming into your room like this but-"

"No, it's fine, it's-" He sighed heavily, pushing himself up into a sitting position and realizing his jeans were all twisted around his waist uncomfortably. Apparently he had been thrashing around in his sleep pretty badly and he wondered what he must have looked like when Castiel burst into the room. "-had a nightmare, I guess. Couldn't move and there was something in the room. I dunno, can't remember it now."

Castiel was standing back against his dresser, his arms hanging tensely at his sides as he watched Dean shift around on his bed. He still looked worried, blue eyes trained on him intently even when Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. They sat there for a long time in silence, Dean blinking up at him blearily before he shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"I had a nightmare, it happens, Cas. Don't look at me like I'm dyin'," he huffed, frowning a bit when Castiel's eyes flickered off to the side suddenly. He refused to look back up at him, even after a few seconds passed and Dean slowly pushed himself up onto his feet. "You hungry? I'm hungry..."

He walked out of the room, adjusting his jeans as he walked-probably looking like he had something shoved up his ass-but he really didn't care. By the time he made it down the hall and into the kitchen there was no sign of Castiel following him. He was probably seriously freaked out, trying to figure it out from a medical standpoint and it was then that Dean realized it must have been really bad. Maybe he'd had a seizure or something in his sleep? As much as he really didn't like being poked and prodded at, he was going to have to make a doctor's appointment to get himself checked out. It would give him some peace of mind that he wasn't going crazy and seeing things that weren't there.

"Dean, you should sit down and rest," Castiel said suddenly, Dean glancing up from the fridge to see him standing at the edge of the kitchen rigidly.

"Rest? Dude I just woke up," he chuckled, pulling out a packet of bacon and the eggs. "I am rested."

"No Dean, your nightmare-whatever that was-you were _screaming_. It sounded like someone was murdering you in your own bedroom." Dean just shrugged his shoulders, pulling a pan out from the cabinet and set it on the stove top to start cooking. But before he could even turn the stove on those same strong hands wrapped around his upper arms and wheeled him around to face the dark haired man in his kitchen, Castiel glaring at him seriously. "I said _no_, Dean. You need to sit down for a moment. I will cook breakfast if you'll just, sit down. Please."

There was an unmistakable tone of worry in Castiel's voice, his blue eyes locked with Dean's in a continued plea that he just listen for once in his damn life and take care of himself. It wasn't really like him to listen to anyone else, but he found himself nodding halfheartedly, stepping away from the stove and toward the living room. The two rooms were separated by a breakfast bar, Dean stepping around it and headed straight for the couch. The blanket that he had laid over Castiel the night before was folded neatly over the back of the couch again and Dean carefully slid over the arm and fell over onto the cushions so that he was laying on his side, staring blankly over at the black television screen. He could hear Castiel messing around with the pan on the stove, apparently cooking breakfast like he had promised and Dean frowned lightly. He was making breakfast for him like he was a kid or something and there was nothing he could do to go against it. Not with Castiel looking at him the way he did. Sighing heavily, he reached over to paw at the remote on the coffee table, knocking it off onto the floor with a curse before he managed to pull it closer to himself and turned the TV on.

By the time Castiel made it back into the living room carrying two plates of food, Dean had shuffled through every channel he could, knowing damn well there was nothing on early morning television worth watching. It took him a moment to push himself up into a sitting position on the couch, taking a plate from Castiel as he settled down on the opposite end of the couch with his own identical plate. The eggs and bacon looked pretty good and Dean ate quietly, watching the news for lack of anything better. They were talking about weather and traffic and generally boring shit, Dean glancing over at Castiel when he'd finished eating, realizing that he had barely touched his own food. It looked like he cut it up and just pushed it around his plate aimlessly. Maybe he had a hangover and the thought of food was making him sick?

"You alright?" Dean asked, leaning forward to sit his clean plate on the coffee table. "You hung over or somethin'?" Castiel shook his head no, scooping up a forkful of eggs and cramming them into his mouth as if to prove his point. He glanced over at Dean for a second, dropping his eyes to his plate when he saw Dean staring at him. He seemed uncomfortable about something now and Dean couldn't help but think that was his fault. "I'm sick, aren't I?"

The question escaped his mouth before he really had a chance to think it through. Castiel's eyes flickered back up to his face, his features set into a mask of worry and Dean could tell that Castiel knew something he didn't. He was apparently sick, just like he'd suspected all along and Castiel had seen it first hand that morning. He opened his mouth to say something, closing it just as quickly and Dean just nodded. Of course he was sick. What kind of healthy person blacked out for days on end with only fragmented memories to gauge how much time had passed and was seeing things that weren't there? He was sick or crazy and he'd rather be sick. Sick meant there was a medication for it, that maybe he could take something to make it better. Being crazy wasn't something you just popped a pill to get rid of.

"Dean-" Castiel coughed, drawing his green eyes back over toward him. "-you are not sick. You just-your body is under a lot of stress at the moment. Which is why I was so insistent you rest. I can see you pushing yourself past limits no one should ever push themselves. The hours you keep at your job, your sleep schedule. You must take better care of yourself or else...you will end up seriously hurt someday."

"I'm already taking time off work for my stupid hand, what else am I supposed to do, Cas?" he asked seriously, gesturing to the house around them. "I got bills to pay, just like you. I've gotta work."

"I realize that, but you have to find a healthier way of going about it," Castiel sighed, sitting his half empty plate onto the coffee table beside Dean's. "Maybe we could do more things, go out more often. Something to ensure you take a break from work. Would that be something you would be interested in trying, Dean?"

Dean just blinked over at him, Castiel's face so serious that he thought for a moment that maybe he had misheard the words coming out of his mouth. That or he had taken them completely out of context. It sounded to him that Castiel was asking to go out with him more often, like, dating. The two of them. And he wasn't exactly sure how to respond at first. He turned the words over in his head several times, trying to work out some other way Castiel could have meant them, but he just kept coming up with the same conclusion.

"Go out more often?" he asked quietly and Castiel nodded his head. "_With_ you?"

"Yes, with me," Castiel said evenly, squinting his eyes slightly. "Unless you would prefer not to-"

"No! No, I mean, that would be alright. I guess," Dean gasped, throwing a hand up to stop him before he went on. "I wouldn't mind. I was just, you know, makin' sure I heard you right."

Castiel smiled softly and nodded again, sliding off of the couch to collect their plates and made his way into the kitchen. Dean could hear him running water in the sink, no doubt cleaning what he'd used and he thought about going to help, but he was sure he would just be yelled at again to go sit down. So he sprawled out on the couch, leaving enough space at the end for Castiel to sit once he came back and settled in to watch the television again, as boring as it was. He paid more attention to the sound of Castiel washing dishes, smirking to himself at how domestically pleasant it was. Maybe a bit of rest wasn't such a bad idea after all...

* * *

><p>Dean's days started to all blend together in ways that no longer worried him. Once he was released to go back to work by a very wary Castiel, he settled into a healthier pattern that consisted of six hours at the garage with a lunch break at the mid-point. Castiel made it a point to always bring him food every day at noon like clockwork or else they'd go out and get something together. Then after work he would return home, sometimes with Castiel, sometimes without before showering and heading out to meet him at the Roadhouse or some other place Castiel wanted to try in town. Even when Castiel's hours got in their way, he would leave work and come straight to Dean's house where they would laze around on the couch watching crappy TV. Most of the time that ended with Castiel falling asleep on his couch and he was simply too peaceful to disturb. Dean would just drape the blanket over him and turn off all the lights and let him sleep until his alarm on his phone woke them both in the wee hours of the morning. He would hear Castiel knocking around for a moment in the living room before leaving and he'd just roll back over to go to sleep, but not before texting him to have a good day at work. It would usually warrant him a mockingly angry text to go back to sleep and some ridiculous thing that Castiel had explained was an emoticon heart. Something the nurses at the hospital had showed him and Dean teased him for days over it. Still, it was something that always made him smile, as cheesy as it was.<p>

More and more, Dean was finding himself at peace with his life. Things that used to anger him at the shop just didn't seem that important anymore. When he couldn't finish a job before quitting time due to unforeseen complications, he would just pack it in and leave anyway, resolving to work on it first thing in the morning. Bobby and Ash had teased him for the first few days about being domesticated, but he really didn't pay them any attention. After a while they just seemed to accept that it was just the way Dean was now and it was in all honesty for the better. He wasn't as worn out anymore, he had more time to do the things that he liked doing, like fishing. With Castiel of course. Tonight it was dinner at Dean's house. It was no secret to anyone that Dean could cook, he never really cared for it until he entered his adult years and it no longer felt like a chore. He had the entire thing planned out so that he was just putting the steaks on the grill when Castiel walked through the door. He was off at six which would give him an hour to hit home to shower and change then be at Dean's house by seven-ish.

Just as Dean was pulling the roasted potatoes out of the oven he could hear the front door opening and he smiled brightly as he set the pan on the back of the stove out of the way and grabbed for the plate of seasoned steaks he'd set out on the counter. When he turned to see Castiel entering the kitchen, he stopped for a moment to take him in. Of all the times he'd seen Castiel aside from that first day, he never looked like anything other than perfection, but now was a whole other level of perfect Dean instantly found addictive. His hair was still wet from where he had showered, sticking up in random directions where it normally laid flat. He was wearing a white oxford shirt that stopped short of being buttoned up all the way and he was actually wearing _jeans_. He jerked to a stop mid-step, gawking over at the dark haired man with a lopsided grin as he set a bottle of red wine on the counter.

"Hello Dean," he sighed happily, nodding toward the plate in his hands. "Do you need any help with that?"

"No-no I got it, could use some company though," he muttered, eyeing Castiel up and down. "You look nice."

Castiel glanced down at himself, realizing that his shirt was still unbuttoned and instantly reached up to correct it. "I apologize, I was in the middle of doing laundry when I left for work this morning. This was all I had."

Dean just chuckled softly, shaking his head as he headed for the back door, holding it open with his foot for Castiel to join him. He'd already had the grill pre-heating, sitting the plate on the side so that he could open the lid and grabbed for the tongs hanging off the side. Castiel stood diligently at his side, more content to watch than to actually cook, as he carefully laid both steaks onto the hot grill. They'd gone out for steak once before and it was pretty convenient that they both liked their steaks medium well so they'd both be done at the same time. Once he closed the lid he turned to look Castiel over again, reaching out to undo the buttons he had quickly fastened back in the kitchen.

"I kinda like the disheveled look," he mumbled, smirking when Castiel flushed a bit and fidgeted a bit in place. "You don't have to look all professional all the time Cas. It's just me, you don't have to try and impress me."

"Of course," Castiel sighed, smiling at him softly. "I know that, it's just a habit I cannot seem to break."

"I can see that, but really," Dean said with a light whistle, stepping back to gesture to him. "You look hot like that."

Castiel's cheeks flushed a darker shade of red, his smile growing into an uncontrollable smirk and Dean couldn't help but grin at him again. He was adorable in ways a grown man shouldn't be and Dean loved every second of it. With the steaks sizzling away, he nodded back toward the house, following Castiel back inside and watched him intently as he grabbed for the bottle of wine and held it up for Dean to look at. He really wasn't a wine person, but he'd told Castiel he'd give it a chance sometime when they'd gone out for dinner last time. The dark haired man had been staring across the restaurant at a woman drinking the dark red liquid out of a glass and seemed enthralled by it. Dean was a beer and whiskey kinda guy, no way around that, but he'd be willing to give it a try for Castiel's sake.

"It's a Marsala, the sales associate at the store was very helpful in recommending it for a first time red wine," Castiel muttered, watching Dean closely as he took the bottle and turned it over in his hands to read the label. "She mentioned it was on the sweeter side."

"Well, let's give it a go!" Dean chuckled, turning to his silverware drawer and digging around for a moment before he found the corkscrew he only ever used for champagne that first year in his house when his brother had stopped in and demanded they celebrate New Years together, only to find out he really didn't even need a corkscrew to open champagne. He peeled off the foil around the neck of the bottle, fiddling with it for a moment before he managed to get the corkscrew imbedded into the cork far enough to pull it back out. "You pour and I'll go flip the steaks, you know where the glasses are..."

Castiel nodded, taking the bottle from him as Dean moved toward the backdoor again and went to flip the steaks. By the time he made it back inside Castiel was standing with two of the brand new wine glasses Dean had snuck out and bought for just this occasion, though he'd never admit that out loud, both filled with a small amount of the deep red liquid. They were just going to try it first, see if they actually liked it before they went hog wild and started filling glasses to the brim. Castiel held one of the glasses out to him and Dean gladly took it, bringing the lip of it up to his nose to sniff it. It certainly did smell sweet, Dean shrugging a bit as he brought the glass to his lips and tipped it up, taking the entire thing in one swig. It was indeed sweet, but it had a strong bite to it and Dean wasn't quite sure he liked it. He didn't say anything though, watching Castiel drink his slowly. The moment he had downed the red liquid, he sat the glass down on the counter and stared at Dean for a long time before he made a face and shook his head.

"It's not what I expected it to be," he coughed and Dean laughed lightly, nodding a bit.

"Yeah it's uh, different, that's for sure." He moved over to the fridge and pried it open, reaching down to grab two bottles of beer and held them up for Castiel to see. "You want a beer instead?"

"Yes please."

It wasn't very often that Dean had dinner at his dining table, but today he made an exception. Castiel set the table as Dean dished out the food onto the plates and they sat down across from one another in the silent living room, just staring over the table at one another. Normally when they were out having dinner there was so much ambient noise that it didn't really seem to affect them, but there in his small house, there was nothing to buffer the quiet and Dean fidgeted in his chair. It shouldn't have been that difficult to sit there with him, especially after all the weeks they had spent together, but Dean just couldn't take it. He slid out of his chair and moved over toward the radio in the front room and turned it on. It took him a moment of fiddling with the stations to find one he liked, leaving the volume on low enough that it just gave some added atmosphere to the room. It wasn't anything romantic, just a classic rock station, but when he slid back into his seat he felt a little more comfortable.

They didn't talk much during dinner, washing the dishes together side by side so that their shoulders bumped together whenever Dean passed him a dish to rinse and dry. It was simple and easy, quiet. And it was something that Dean had never known he was looking for until that moment. Just someone to spend a quiet evening at home without arguing or complaining. When you could walk into the house, pissed off from a day of work and find that person, hold them, and it would all melt away instantly. Because outside of them, nothing really mattered. And when things got bad, they could just curl up on the couch with one another and forget about everything else. Which was exactly what they were doing now, except without really curling up. Dean was sitting at the end of the couch, sipping a beer when Castiel flopped down next to him in the middle and just sat there silently. He was holding his own beer bottle in one hand, dangling it between his knees as he stared at the blank TV screen and Dean thought for a moment that he should turn it on, but they had the radio going already.

It wasn't until the song switched over to something slower that Castiel turned in his seat to say something and Dean's body apparently decided it was a good time to make a move with or without his consent. The moment they were facing each other he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Castiel's and the man went rigid. He couldn't for the life of him understand why he'd done it, why he even thought it was a good idea in the first place, but he couldn't take it back now. He just sat back quickly, staring at Castiel wide-eyed and waited for whatever fallout was about to happen. Castiel was just staring over at him, his mouth hanging open a bit like he wasn't sure how to respond. He could see the gears turning in the guy's head and he had a good feeling that it wasn't going to end well. Maybe he'd punch him, because he was sure he wasn't going to slap him like a woman would have, but either way would have been an understandable response.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he muttered after Castiel remained quiet for longer than he was comfortable with. His blue eyes scanning over his face in confusion. What else could he say? He _was_ sorry. There was a very good chance that he had just ruined whatever strange friendship they had by making it sexually awkward. He didn't even really like guys, sure he'd joked about it several times before-there was that one guy he made out with at a party back in high school where he was drunk off his ass, but in his defense he was _really_ attractive. And Castiel was far beyond the scope of mere attractiveness. He was something else entirely and Dean was helplessly drawn to him for whatever reason.

"N-No, Dean," Castiel muttered suddenly, sitting his beer on the coffee table and instantly reaching over to grab Dean by the hand. He looked troubled, scooting closer on the couch so that their legs were touching. "I have never-I wasn't sure how to respond."

Dean frowned a bit, his hand involuntarily tightening around Castiel's even though it felt like something far more intimate than he should have been allowed to do. The man beside him didn't back away like he thought he would, there was no retaliation of any kind, he just pushed himself closer to Dean so that their faces were barely an inch apart. Dean could feel his breath hitting his face and what he had said finally sank into his brain. Castiel had never _what_?

"You've never what? You've never had someone kiss you before?" Dean asked, the question escaping him before he could think to hold it back and when he shook his head no, Dean seriously wanted to know what the hell was wrong with the rest of the world. Not one person had ever kissed him in his entire life? It didn't seem possible. "Well, that's just fucked up."

Since there hadn't been much in the way of rejection and Castiel was willingly leaning into his space, Dean decided that he needed to amend the whole "never been kissed" thing, closing the space between them and kissed him again. Castiel remained rigid beside him, the entire thing was awkward-like kissing a plank of wood-but Dean refused to give up. Pulling his hand free of Castiel's, reaching up to cup his cheeks gently and carefully tilted his head a bit so that they weren't nose to nose. It gave him a little more room to work with and Castiel seemed a little shocked by the change in position, opening his mouth a bit so that Dean could slip his tongue into his mouth. Castiel made a surprised sound at the sudden intrusion, but he didn't pull away and finally he relaxed against him, pressing his tongue against Dean's tentatively. It was clear by their slow pace that he really did have no experience in kissing, but that really didn't bother Dean. Sometimes, teaching was half the fun and Castiel was a fast learner. It didn't take him long to start pushing back against him, groaning into Dean's mouth, a hand gently pressed against Dean's chest and he could feel Castiel's fingers hesitantly twisting into the fabric of his shirt like he wanted to pull Dean closer but wasn't sure that he should.

When he forced himself to pull away for the sake of getting oxygen back into his lungs, Castiel actually leaned with him for a second before he realized what was happening and drew in a shaky breath himself as he sat back a bit so that they could just breath. He was still staring at Dean with wide blue eyes, like he was shocked over what had just happened, but there was a small smile settled on his lips that told Dean he was entirely happy with it. "That was okay?" he asked quietly, watching Castiel closely as he nodded almost instantly. "Good. I thought it was pretty good too..."

Castiel nodded again and before he could really think about leaning over and kissing him again, he suddenly had a lap full of the dark haired man, his normally steady hands shaking as he pawed at Dean's shoulders, trying to pull him closer into the kiss that he was feverishly pressing against his lips. It was easy to feel the desperation in his motions, the _years_ of neglect clinging to him like he'd never once been touched in tenderness his entire life. If Dean was given half the chance, he would make sure that he was given all the much needed attention he deserved. Every ounce of happiness he could manage to fit into each kiss and touch.


	5. Flatline

The first time that Dean and Castiel shared a bed, Dean was nervous in more ways than one. Nearly every night that he had slept alone in his bed, he was subjected to the same dream over and over again. The nurse would enter his bedroom, check something on his body and leave again without a single word, the room still echoing with the beeping noise from hell. He was beginning to think that he was going insane until he would meet up with Castiel later in the day and everything would seem perfectly fine. Since he was no longer seeing her while he was awake he really didn't complain too much about it, but now he was afraid of having the dream with Castiel right there in bed with him. Afraid of waking him up in the middle of the night screaming for some phantom nurse to leave him alone. But it was a risk he was willing to take for their first official night spent together.

They hadn't planned for it to be anything more than simply sharing a bed, but that didn't mean jack squat when they actually slid under the covers together and Dean was determined to be prepared for anything even if nothing happened. There was no way of knowing what Castiel expected and while he was quite content to just lay with him, he had no idea how frisky he would end up getting. Kissing him had gone over far better than Dean could have hoped for, but now he was like a damn kissing maniac and whenever Dean even remotely hinted at it, Castiel would practically throw himself on him and not let go until he literally couldn't breath. Dean loved every second of it. Still, they had agreed on sharing a bed so Dean wasn't about to push him in one way or another beyond that unless he made it clearly known there was something more to be had.

The entire situation had been brought about as a joke to being with. Dean was teasing Castiel about living in his house more often than his own and demanded that if he was going to sleep there, he might as well sleep in a bed. Castiel had agreed after a silent moment of contemplation, stating that he wouldn't mind sharing a bed with Dean and now the mechanic was rushing around the house making sure there were clean sheets and pillowcases on the bed in anticipation for the whole ordeal. Not to mention a bedside table filled with precautionary intimate supplies. It wasn't like he didn't have them in his medicine cabinet in the first place, he just moved them closer to the bed just in case. Maybe he was over thinking things, but he couldn't help wanting to be safe. Castiel wouldn't even be there until well after midnight once he'd finished his shift so Dean would probably already be asleep when he slipped in. If he did at all. Maybe he would come in and lose the nerve to slide into bed with him. If Dean woke up alone in bed, he wouldn't hold it against him, even if it would sting his pride a bit.

Dean had eaten dinner and showered like usual, turning in around eleven and curled up under the blankets on what he had now deemed his side of the bed. Normally he would just sprawl out wherever, but now that he had a partner to share with, he was going to have to pick a side and commit to sticking to it. He had been certain that he would fall asleep before Castiel even made it home, but he found himself laying there wide awake, watching the shadows of the tree outside his window stretch across the ceiling. Part of him suddenly wanted to cut the tree down to illuminate all possible creepy things to fuel new nightmares once he did pass out. When he heard the bedroom door creek open, he sat upright in the bed quickly, fearful that it was the nurse coming back to maybe harvest an organ this time. But it was just Castiel. The dark haired man stared at him in awe for a second, waving lightly and Dean sighed in relief. He was still awake and Castiel was there, no nurses, no beeping, just Castiel.

"Dean," Castiel whispered harshly, inching over to the empty side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. "You were supposed to be sleeping."

"I was tryin'," he grumped, flopping back onto his pillow, watching Castiel closely as he slowly stripped out of his jeans and over-shirt, probably enjoying it far more than he should. "I laid down at eleven, what time is it?"

"One," Castiel sighed, climbing into bedside him and snuggled down under the blankets. Dean thought that he might stay on his own side of the bed, but after he was well tucked under the blankets, he scooted closer, pushing his cold feet between Dean's legs and he tried not to hiss at the sudden chill. "I got out late. We had a woman come in with a finger missing..."

"Missing? How do fingers go _missing_?" Dean griped, shivering a bit at the frosty toes that were currently trying to steal his heat.

"Well it was missing from her hand. She brought it in on ice." Dean gave him a half crazed look and Castiel just chuckled, snuggling closer to him so that they only had a few inches of space between their bodies. "It was a kitchen knife incident. We reattached it and she should be fine."

"That sounds fucking horrible. Now I know not to be careless with kitchen knives."

"You should never be careless with anything, Dean. I like your fingers attached. As well as everything else."

"_Everything_ else?"

He waggled his eyebrows a bit and Castiel snorted, closing the space between them so that he could lay his head on Dean's shoulder. They laid there for a long time in silence, Castiel's feet slowly warming up against his legs. Dean's fingers kept twitching every now and again, fighting with himself over whether or not to put his arm around Castiel's shoulder or not. He was afraid of initiating any kind of contact and Castiel feeling like he was trying to get in his pants or something. After a long while of almost lifting his arm and laying it right back between them, he decided to just stay still and forget the whole thing. There was no telling how they would wake up, or if Castiel would even stay close to him once he'd warmed up.

"Dean?" Castiel asked quietly, Dean humming in response as he laid there staring up at the ceiling. "Is this making you uncomfortable? I can go to the couch-"

"No," Dean insisted immediately, uncomfortable was the last thing he was feeling. Awkward maybe at his own idiocy, but not uncomfortable in the slightest. "No, I just don't know what to do with my arm..."

Castiel sat up slowly, reaching down to grab Dean by the wrist and carefully guided it to where it was laying out to his side, snuggling back against his side so that his arm was now resting under Castiel. He smirked lightly, curling his arm around his shoulder and held him against his body tightly. It felt more natural than he thought it should, but it made him happy none the less, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the sleeve of Castiel's undershirt. He wasn't sure how long he laid there, still staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to claim him, but apparently it was quite a while, the shadows in the room moving across the ceiling as the light from the moon shifted. When he glanced down to see if Castiel was sleeping, he met a bright pair of blue eyes staring up at him, all wide-eyed and no where near asleep.

"Cas, why are you still awake? You worked all day, go to sleep...," he grumbled, sighing a bit.

"You should be sleeping as well Dean, but you're not. Am I distracting you?"

"You _always_ distract me, Cas," he said with a smirk. "In the best of ways. But I just can't fall asleep. I couldn't fall asleep before you got here, I dunno. I haven't been sleeping right lately."

"More nightmares?" Dean nodded lightly, turning a bit in the bed so that they were laying face to face, pulling his arm back a bit so that Castiel was resting in the crook of his elbow instead of on his shoulder. He seemed concerned about the dreams, even though Dean had never explained to him what they were about. The last thing he wanted was for Castiel to think that he was going crazy. "What will help you sleep?"

"You. I sleep better when you're here."

Dean ducked his head down so that his head was tucked under Castiel's chin, nuzzling against his neck. Despite just leaving work, he smelled of soap and something else that was distinctly Castiel, a fresh rain sort of scent that Dean often smelled when they were close. He hoped that it wouldn't be too weird for him, laying as still as he possibly could so that he wasn't jostling him to much. Castiel draped his arm around him, resting over his side so that his hand was pressed against the small of his back, infinitely warmer than his feet had been. It was comforting in a way he didn't know he needed, his fingers rubbing small circles into his skin and it was soothing enough that his eyes finally started to droop closed. For the first time in weeks, he fell asleep without the fear of nurses sneaking into his room to stab him with needles.

When Dean opened his eyes again he was facing his dresser, blinking blearily at the bright light that was filtering into the room and instantly tried to roll so that he could bury his face into his pillow and fall back asleep, but there was a strong arm wrapped around his chest, holding him in place. He grinned brightly, reaching down under the blankets to run his hand down Castiel's arm lightly, feeling him twitch a bit in his sleep. Normally he was a light sleeper, waking up at the smallest movement or sound, but his breathing was still deep and even against his back, small puffs of breath hitting the back of his neck and Dean shivered a bit at the feel of it. He'd resolved to just try and stretch a bit before closing his eyes and willing himself to go back to sleep, arching his back away from Castiel's body to try and work out some of the stiffness that had settled into his joints.

His body stopped abruptly when he inadvertently pressed his ass into Castiel's crotch and it took him a moment to remind himself that it was a natural bodily response in the early morning to have a hard on and that Castiel wasn't coming on to him. He could hear the dark haired man huff a bit in his sleep, his arm tightening around Dean's chest as if to pull him closer and Dean couldn't stop the evil smirk that graced his lips. Maybe he was pushing his luck a bit, but that didn't deter him from pressing back a little harder against Castiel's body, still trying to get a good idea of exactly what he had to work with. It took everything in him not to just flip himself over forcibly and straddle the poor guy when he made a sound in the back of his throat that Dean swore sounded distinctly like a moan, or at the very least, a hum of satisfaction. Castiel's arm flexed under his hand, fingers digging into his ribs a bit as he pulled Dean closer still, nuzzling his face into the side of his neck.

"_Dean_," Castiel growled suddenly, his voice still thick with sleep and a little abrasive, almost like a warning and a chill ran down Dean's spine as he continued to press himself against his lap. "Stop it."

Dean couldn't help but pout a bit, shifting his lower body away from Castiel's as much as he could in their current position. Even though he had told him to stop, Castiel was refusing to remove his arm from his chest, keeping them close under the warm blankets. He had half a mind to go right back to grinding his ass against the other man when he felt a soft kiss pressed against his neck, Castiel humming a bit as he moved to a new spot and kissed him again. What was the point in telling him to stop if he was going to start kissing on him like that? It just didn't make sense, but Dean didn't dare move back for fear of making him angry.

"At least let me go to the bathroom before you start teasing me incessantly," Castiel whispered softly, finally removing his arm from around Dean's chest.

"I was just stretching...," Dean muttered, feeling Castiel shift away from him so that he could roll off the other side of the bed.

"Oh, I am sure you were. But stretching does not involve you rubbing against me like a feline in heat," Castiel yawned, moving around the end of the bed and Dean sat up a bit to watch him head toward the adjoined bathroom. Sure enough, he was sporting a pretty solid boner, rubbing at his eyes lightly as he went. He had the most adorable case of bed head Dean was sure he had ever seen and it was a strange contrast to the amazingly sexy tent in his boxers. It should have been illegal for him to be both cute and mouthwatering at the same time. "Or gawking."

Dean refused to pull his eyes away from the bulge in Castiel's boxers, hearing him snort softly before he continued on into the bathroom. He was _very_ tempted to follow along, but thought better of it when he heard the toilet flush and decided to just lay there and wait for him to come back to bed. He did say that he at least wanted to used the bathroom before Dean started teasing him, meaning that he wasn't really all that adverse to the whole "stretching" thing as he let on. Maybe they could have a bit of fun before they forced themselves out of bed for the day. Except, Castiel didn't come back to bed. He poked his head out of the bathroom door, staring at him for a long moment before he spoke.

"Dean, would it be at all possible for me to use your shower?" he asked softly, eyebrows pressed together in concern as if he were asking for a kidney or something else outrageous. Dean just narrowed his eyes at him dangerously, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could see him better.

"Only if I get to join you," he demanded and Castiel's eyes went wide for a second. "Dude I'm just kidding. You can use whatever. It's just a shower."

"Well, I mean, if you wanted-" Castiel stammered, blue eyes flickering toward the floor for a second before he glanced back up at Dean, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks as he continued his choppy sentence. "-I don't see why you couldn't. _If_ you could manage to keep your hands to yourself."

Dean was up out of bed faster than he was sure he'd ever moved before in his life the moment Castiel said he didn't see why Dean couldn't join him, only briefly pausing when he was given the ultimatum of keeping his hands to himself. He was fairly sure he could manage, certain the view would be enough to sate him for the time being and who knew, maybe Castiel would be the one who got a little frisky. There was no way in hell he was going to pass up the opportunity, squeezing into the bathroom with Castiel with enough enthusiasm that it should have been embarrassing. He'd never been ashamed of his body, quickly shucking off his boxers before Castiel had even gotten the chance to remove his undershirt and leaned past the shower curtain to turn on the water. If there was one good thing about Dean's house, it had to be the plumbing. He'd made sure the water pressure was nothing short of perfect before he signed for the damn thing because showers were one thing he could not give on. By the time he'd adjusted the water temperature to where it wasn't going to literally melt their skin off, Castiel had managed to strip himself of all his clothing, standing damn well near the door, his blush now spread down along his neck as he fidgeted nervously.

Dean wanted nothing more than to just stare at him, willing his eyes not to travel downward and forced himself into the shower. If Castiel was a little bit nervous, he didn't want to give him a reason to change his mind. If he had demanded Dean keep his hands to himself, he would gladly obey. In all honesty, he didn't even need a shower, but he was going to take another one without complaint just to be close to Castiel. He'd have plenty of time to scope out the goods while he was washing, when he wouldn't be as observant of Dean ogling him. He'd managed to soak his short hair when he heard the shower curtain ruffle, peeking over his shoulder to see Castiel standing behind him in the shower, nearly pressed against the wall. Dean just smiled softly, turning back toward the front of the shower and continued to wet his hair.

"I'm not going to bite you Cas," he snorted, reaching for the shampoo and squeezing a bit into his palm to at least appear to have reason to be in there with him aside from staring inappropriately. "Unless you ask me to."

"That sounds awful," Castiel demanded. "Why would anyone request to be bitten?"

"Oh my-really Cas?" he chuckled, turning to face him as he lathered the shampoo up in his hair. "It's not like, taking a chunk out of your or something. Just a light bite, it feels good."

"It doesn't seem like it would..."

Dean ducked his head back under the shower head, scrubbing the soap out of his hair quickly. Castiel was watching him curiously, keeping his eyes glued on his face the entire time as if he were afraid of letting them wander anywhere else. Once Dean had his hair free of soap, he leaned out of the water, smirking at Castiel as he shifted nervously in the back of the tub.

"You want me to show you? I promise, no hands," he asked seriously and Castiel's cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. He was sure that he was going to tell him no, but it was easy to see the gears turning in his head, blue eyes narrowing a bit as if he were trying to see if Dean was joking with him or not.

"No hands?" Castiel asked and Dean nodded. "And it won't hurt?"

"Not one bit."

"And if I don't find it pleasing?"

"Then I never do it again? Cas, I'm not going to force you into anything. We don't have to do it, it's no big deal." He moved to turned back toward the shower head, reaching for the body wash when Castiel suddenly reached out to grab him by the shoulder, forcibly turning him back around again. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, eyebrows knotted together as if he was afraid of Dean turning away from him forever. "Cas, babe, really. It's not a big deal."

"No I would like to try it," Castiel insisted, trying to tug him closer. "I never realized that kissing could be so enjoyable until you showed me it could be. I would like to try this as well."

Dean nodded slowly, turning to face Castiel completely and lifted his hands so that he could prop himself up against the back wall of the shower on either side of Castiel's head. Even though he said that he wanted to try it, he still looked unsure. Dean considered just pulling away and refusing to do it, but Castiel was still gripping his shoulder tightly, holding onto him for dear life. Dean moved slowly, dipping his head down a bit to kiss the side of Castiel's neck lightly. The dark haired man flinched a bit, letting out a shaky breath when he realized that it was just a kiss and Dean chuckled a bit, kissing him softly again.

"Relax, Cas," he murmured, fingers itching to reach down and grab him even though he swore that he'd keep his hands to himself. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

He could feel him nod, his chin brushing his hair a bit and Dean quite gently nipped at the side of his neck. Castiel gasped suddenly, inadvertently tilting his head a bit more to the side to give Dean more room to work with. That was how it started, small nips that made Castiel's breath catch in his throat over and over again and suddenly, Dean had a shaky hand threading through his short hair, trying to push him closer. For someone who had seemed petrified by the idea of biting, he was certainly getting into it, Dean daring to bite him a bit harder here and there and it only made Castiel gasp even louder. It was a sound that seemed to have a direct line to his groin, his body responding without his consent and it didn't take long for him to develop a boner to rival Castiel's morning wood.

"D-Dean," Castiel said suddenly, his voice coming out in a bit of a strangled whine and he found himself pulling back a bit to see what it was he wanted. "I think-I think I find biting enjoyable after all."

Dean smiled at him softly, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek lightly and forced himself to step back away from him before he got carried away. His hands were already shaking a bit, his body trying to win over his mind enough to just grab him and rut against him, touch him in whatever way he possibly could, but Dean had promised no hands.

"See? I told you, it feels good...," Dean sighed happily, making the mistake of letting his eyes wander down Castiel's body. He'd tried not to let his eyes get to carried away for a reason and now that was all shot to hell. Castiel was leaning back against the tile wall, his entire body trembling a bit. It was painfully obvious that the entire thing had gotten him a little worked up, standing at full attention again and Dean swallowed harshly at the sight of him. Rubbing his ass against him in bed had done the man little justice, he physically defined the term "well endowed" to a T and Dean was a tad envious. Sure, his own length was formidable, but Castiel downright put him to shame. He kept telling himself that he'd promised him no hands, he'd committed to it, but now his brain was supplying him with other options that didn't require hands at all and he was having a hard time telling himself no. "You're making this "no hands" rule _really_ hard to follow Cas, just look at you."

Castiel's eyes flickered down to his own body then over at Dean's, his cheeks turning darker by the second and Dean found himself inching closer again. He half expected Castiel to reach out and stop him, to push him away, but he remained still as Dean carefully lowered himself to his knees in the tub, staring up at him intently as he moved his face as close as he could without actually touching him. "Dean-" Castiel panted, his fingers trying to dig into the tiled wall and failing horribly, slipping a bit against the slick surface. "Dean I don't-"

"Don't what, Cas?" he asked seriously, keeping his distance in case he told him he didn't want him to touch him. "Don't want this? I won't do it if you don't want it."

"N-No, I don't know what I-" he stammered, clenching his eyes shut for a moment as if looking at Dean made it more difficult to speak and maybe it did, how the hell would he know? "I don't know-I just _want_."

Dean nodded even though there was no way that Castiel could see him, leaning farther forward so that he could reach him easily, bracing his hands on the sides of the tub. He'd promised, after all. When he leaned forward, opening his mouth so that he could stick out his tongue and gave Castiel's length a small lick, his blue eyes flew open suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath. While it had obviously startled him, he didn't move much aside from the initial flinch, staring down at Dean with wide eyes as he repeated the small lick again. Castiel let out a soft sigh, nodding his head a bit as if to tell Dean that he thought it was alright. It was a small encouragement, but it was enough to spur Dean on, moving farther and farther up his length so that he could swipe his tongue over the head slowly. It was so painfully obvious that Castiel honestly didn't have any experience with sex. Sure, he no doubt understood how the act worked, but knowing about it and experiencing it were two totally different things. There was already a generous amount of clear fluid beaded on the tip of his dick that Dean gladly swiped away with his tongue, shivering a bit when Castiel groaned rather loudly, the sound echoing back off the tiled walls. He had no idea how this beautiful man had gone his entire life without ever being touched in any way-maybe he had wanted it that way, Dean wasn't sure-but he certainly seemed to be alright with it now.

It was more difficult that he would let on not to grip Castiel by the hips and pull him forward, but he managed to keep his hands on the sides of the tub as he closed his mouth around the head of Castiel's dick and instantly bobbed his head down. He could hear him let out a strangled cry, his body quivering a bit and there were suddenly fingers threading through his hair again. He didn't pull or push Dean in any particular way, fingers trembling as if he were trying to have something to hold onto. When he chanced a glance back up at him, his eyes were closed again, his mouth hanging open slightly as he panted into the already warm air and Dean was momentarily captivated by the sight of it. Castiel had only ever been someone that was reserved and well composed, always neat looking, but now he already looked like a total wreck. The moisture from the shower plastering his dark hair to his forehead, face flushed and his chest heaving. It was enough to make Dean's own body twitch a bit in want.

Castiel had said keep his hands to himself, those words were engrained in his head quite well, so that meant he was free to touch himself at least. As he started into an even rhythm, Dean pulled one hand away from the side of the tub and reached down between his own legs to grip himself, stroking his own length in time with the pace he'd set. Castiel was gasping and moaning without reservation and he figured it was because he'd never been told about volume control during sex, not that Dean would ever dream of telling him to be quiet. He loved the sound of his already deep voice dipping even lower as he moaned out his name into the steamy air and it only served to encourage him to keep going. The fingers in his hair suddenly curled a bit, tugging on his hair and Dean instantly moaned around him. The sound didn't get very far, but apparently it felt good for Castiel because his hips bucked forward a bit.

"Dean-Dean I can't-" Castiel gasped, his words coming out in a rush. It was clear to him what he was trying to say, but that wasn't going to get him to stop. He just continued to bob his head up and down his length, sucking on him gently and Castiel's fingers were tugging on his hair half-heartedly, no doubt trying to get him to stop. "Dean! I don't-it feels too good, Dean. W-wait-"

Whatever else he was going to say cut off abruptly, his hips bucking forward again as he came and Dean just hummed happily at the sudden warmth, his own hips pushing up into his hand as he stroked himself as quickly as he could. He swallowed everything Castiel had to give eagerly, still bobbing his head lightly until his body went rigid, his hand jerking to a stop as he reached his own release on the floor of the tub between Castiel's feet. He finally pulled back off of Castiel's dick, groaning softly as he stroked himself through his orgasm, green eyes flickering up to look at the dark haired man above him.

"Cas-Cas, you alright?" he panted, seeing the way his body was shaking almost uncontrollably. Maybe it had been a bit too much for him all at once. He was sure that he had at least gotten himself off at some point in his life, but looking at him now, Dean wasn't so sure anymore. "Castiel, babe, answer me."

"I don't know," he gasped suddenly, knees shaking a bit and Dean slowly pushed himself back up onto his feet, reaching out for him without actually grabbing him in case he collapsed. It was Castiel that grabbed him first, gripping his forearms so tightly that it almost hurt, but he didn't shrug him off. "I don't know. I don't know, I just, I didn't know-"

It caught him completely off guard to see Castiel's eyes tearing up a bit, hoping that it was just the humidity in the air, but when he clenched his eyes shut and had actual tears trailing down his cheeks, he panicked. "Shit, Cas," he breathed, reaching up to cup his face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks gently. Maybe he didn't know as much as Dean gave him credit for and he didn't understand that Dean was going to do what he did. That it was an actual sexual act and now he felt violated. He'd demanded that Dean keep his hands to himself and he should have fucking known better. "Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to force anything on you. I should have told you-I'm sorry-I-"

"Dean, no, no I just didn't know," Castiel rambled, shaking his head as much in Dean's hands as he could. "I didn't know that it could, be like that. I didn't know and I just-I don't deserve it, but _thank_ you."

Dean laughed lightly, the sound a bit strained as he leaned forward and kissed him softly. He had no idea what the hell Castiel had been through to believe that he didn't deserve to be loved, but he was going to make it his soul mission in life to make him see that differently. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, who's made you feel that way, but Cas," he sighed, butting his forehead again his. "Cas don't _ever_ let me hear you say you don't deserve something. You hear me? You deserve everything. _Everything_. And I'll gladly give it to you, time and time again as long as you'll let me."

* * *

><p>After their whole ordeal in the shower, things with Castiel slowly became more and more strained. Dean was sure that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had pushed him too far after all. He would stay away for longer periods of time with not so much as a single message or phone call. Dean had tried to tell himself that it was just longer hours at the hospital, but there was doubt quickly seeping in. Yet, whenever Castiel was with him, he was exceptionally clingy. He would insist on sleeping in Dean's bed, curled up with him with his arms wrapped around Dean so tightly sometimes that he could hardly breath. Those were the nights he would just lay awake, combing his fingers through Castiel's hair gently, listening to the sound of his steady breathing. He felt like it was the only time he ever got to spend with him anymore and he couldn't bear to waste it sleeping through it.<p>

When morning would come, he'd wake up to an empty bed and it hurt more than he liked to let on. Castiel would leave him a note on his phone telling him that he was called into work or had errands to run, some kind of excuse not to be there and he had half a mind to tell him to stop bothering. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. As much as he didn't want Castiel to fake anything for his sake, he was too selfish to let him go either. And the rare times when they actually did get to be close and Castiel would kiss him, there was always this overwhelming sense of need radiating off of him that Dean just couldn't get enough of. The want was there, he could literally _feel_ it, time was the issue. They were just in a funk at the moment and they could eventually get through it. He had to keep telling himself that or waking up alone in bed after falling asleep with Castiel in his arms was going to break him.

One not so very special night, Dean had come home from work and showered, made dinner for himself and sat down on the couch to eat. Castiel had texted him earlier in the day to say that he wasn't going to be over due to overtime at work. There was apparently an outbreak of severe flu cases and he was working almost nonstop, sleeping at the hospital when he had the time. He honestly tried not to be bitter about it, there was nothing Castiel could do, nothing Dean could do to change it, so there was no sense in getting angry over it. He just ate his dinner in silence, watching crappy television until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and decided it was a good time to turn in. Carrying his plate into the kitchen, he dropped it into the sink rather loudly, figuring it wasn't even worth doing the dishes if there was no one else there to see them but him. He'd just do it in the morning after breakfast or something. Maybe Castiel would get to come in for breakfast...

Dean scoffed at himself for getting his hopes up, shaking his head lightly as he turned to head toward his bathroom and instantly froze as his eyes fell on the woman standing in front of him. He hadn't even been aware of anyone else in the house, jerking back from her so violently that he slammed his lower back into the counter and cursed loudly. It was the same dark haired nurse from the car lot, the one that had been creeping into his bedroom on lonely nights to poke and prod at his body. She was frowning at him deeply, her hand reaching out to grab him by the elbow and he tried his best to pull back away from her, but her icy fingers latched onto him easily and he just couldn't seem to shake her off. "N-No, get off of me!" he shouted, amazed that he could actually find his voice, struggling under her grip like a fish out of water. "Let me go, what the hell do you want?!"

"His heart rate is spiking, low blood pressure, he's going into shock!" she called out suddenly and Dean just gawked at her in sheer confusion. "I need some help in here!"

Who the hell was she yelling at? Who was going into shock? Dean tried again to pull his arm away from her, looking around the kitchen for any signs of any other phantom nurses that were going to come pin him down. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs rapidly, the beeping sound that he always dreaded flooding into his ears suddenly and he nearly screamed out in desperation. He finally managed to jerk his arm away from her, staggering back against the counter again as his head spun violently. He could see the edges of her figure fading out again, the entire room rotating quickly and before he could even grab a hold of anything to keep himself upright, he was falling. The moment he collided harshly with the cold tile floor he could hear the nurse yelling again, but the words were so far away it was hard to make out what she was saying. She sounded desperate and for the first time since he'd started hallucinating about her, he genuinely felt she was trying to _help_ him. The beeping noise that had always drove him insane stretched out into one continuous sound, Dean panicking again when he realized he could no longer feel his heart beating.

It suddenly became painfully clear that the beeping noise was directly connected to his heart and for the first time since he'd started hearing it, he actually wanted it back. The pips were gone which meant he was _dying_, his body too heavy to even move and his vision was slowly starting to fade, staring off into the distance, entirely helpless to stop what was happening. He wasn't ready to go yet, he didn't want to die because that meant he would be giving up Castiel. What would he think when he came home to find him dead on the kitchen floor? How long would it even take him to find Dean? He was stuck at work during a flu epidemic, or worse just avoiding him, and it could be days before he came around again. Dean would be long gone and cold by then, probably stiff and already starting to decompose and he prayed that Castiel would never have to find him like that. That he would never come back to his house and have to witness him dead on the floor. He would have rather laid there and rotted forever than put anyone through that.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, all the sounds in the house suddenly gone and he was left with nothing but deafening silence. He thought that dying would be faster, that one moment you would be there and suddenly the next, you were gone. But he seemed to linger around for what felt like hours. Just laying there and staring at nothing in particular because everything was blurry. Maybe it was only a few moments in reality, but it certainly felt like forever. Since there was nothing he could really do to change his predicament, he wished it would get on with it and stop dicking around. If he ended up being stuck in his own dead body, he was going to have a serious meltdown. He couldn't lay there like a vegetable for the rest of eternity, he would literally go insane. Seeing phantom nurses would be the least of his problems if they stuck him in a pine box and buried him. Maybe he would get lucky and his brother would have him cremated. Couldn't be stuck in a body if there was no body left right? Then he wondered idly if it would hurt if they did cremate him. Death hadn't been particularly painful, but burning to ash didn't sound so pleasant no matter what way you turned it. If he was indeed stuck in his body, dead or not, would he still feel pain?

"Dean! No, no, no, Dean!" He wasn't exactly sure when Castiel had appeared, but he was suddenly being wrenched up off of the floor, strong hands forcibly rolling him onto his back so that he was resting in Castiel's lap as the blue eyed man stared down at him in horror, tears dotting the corners of his eyes as he shook him harshly. "Please no, I never meant to leave you alone this long, Dean _please_-"

Of course the very thing he had wanted to avoid would be exactly what happened and he wasn't really sure how he was supposed to console the man if he was dead. It wasn't as if he could just brush his hand across his cheek and tell him that everything was alright, he still couldn't feel his limbs, let alone move anything. He could see Castiel shaking, his body curling forward as he leaned down to press his forehead to Dean's and he found it odd that he could still feel the warmth of him. He tried to force a sound out of his body, a cry, a sob, anything to let him know that he was still in there, but all he could do was lay there as Castiel sobbed against him. He could see him lift a hand to his chest, resting it over his dead heart and dug his fingers into his shirt lightly. Dean wanted desperately to reach up and hold him, to comfort him even though he was the dead one. But he would never get the chance.

One moment the world was dull and graying, his entire body heavy and cold. The next, he was so very awake as if someone had jolted him with electricity. Dean's body lurched up of it's own free will out of Castiel's lap, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as he instantly tried to pull in air and scream at the same time. His eye were wide open, staring up at the ceiling in pure shock. He'd just been dead a few moments ago and now he was alive again, his body twitching almost uncontrollably as his heart thudded loudly in his ears. He wasn't sure what had happened, how Castiel had managed to resuscitate him, but he was thankful for it. He moved his gaze quickly to his face, searching his tear glossed eyes for some kind of explanation. His arms were wrapped around him, holding Dean close to him even though his body had arched up of its own accord all of a sudden. "Cas-" he gasped, his voice strained like he'd been screaming nonstop for hours on end. "Cas-"

"It's alright Dean, you're alright," he murmured, hushing him lightly as he pulled him closer, tucking Dean's head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you alone like this. I'm here now, you're safe."

"Cas-I was-dying," he gasped, finally working his fingers up to grip his shirt, clinging to him. "I died-Cas. I-I _died_."

"Shh, no you are not dead. I would never, _never_ let you die, Dean," he sobbed, rocking him a bit, something he never thought he'd like until that very moment. "Not yet, you cannot die yet. I will not allow it."

Dean tried to say something else, anything else, to thank him for being there. For finding him. He hadn't wanted Castiel to see him like that, but the fact that he did had literally saved his life. It was no doubt tearing the man apart inside, but Dean was indeed alive and safe, just like he had said. Alive and safe and so very tired. The shock that he had received only moments ago seemed to have worn off and his limbs felt heavy again. Not like dead weight, he was just too physically exhausted to lift them. His fingers slowly slipped away from Castiel's shirt and landed on his stomach. All he could manage was a slow nod, but Castiel seemed to understand. He sat there in the kitchen floor, cradling Dean against his body and rocking him gently, kissing his hair every few moments as if to let him know that he was still there. Dean honestly couldn't think of a better place to fall asleep.

When Dean opened his eyes again he was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and he instantly tried to lurch up off the mattress in fear. He barely got his shoulders up off the mattress before a strong arm pressed down across his chest and pushed him back down. He glanced over, finding Castiel seated on the edge of the bed next to him, a damp washcloth in his hand. He looked troubled, pulling his arm back the moment Dean settled back onto the sheets. It took him a moment to remember exactly how he had gotten there, how Castiel had found him laying dead in his kitchen floor and it made his stomach roll just thinking about it. Just remembering how scared and upset Castiel had been when he pulled him up into his lap, how his entire body shook as he sobbed and how he had suddenly been jolted back to life. He still couldn't understand how that had happened, it wasn't like Castiel carried around a defibrillator around with him.

"Dean, do you know where you are?" Castiel asked quietly, almost as if he were afraid of startling him. He opened his mouth to answer him instantly, but he couldn't manage to get the sound out. The entire back of his throat felt like sandpaper and Castiel seemed to understand instantly, reaching over to sit down the wash cloth and scooped up a glass of water off the nightstand. "Here."

Dean had a difficult time of sitting up, propping himself up on one elbow so that he was upright enough to take a drink without choking. The moment the water touched his lips he ended up downing over half the glass, coughing a bit when he finally pushed it away and Castiel placed it back onto the nightstand. He sat there patiently as Dean swallowed a couple of times, still trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling in the back of his throat, the water had helped a bit, but it still took him a moment to find his voice. "Home," he croaked, grimacing at the horrible sound that made it's way out of his mouth. "Where else would I be?"

Castiel just looked at him sadly, scooping up the wash cloth again and reached over slowly to dot his forehead with it. He wondered for a moment if maybe he had cracked his head open on the tile in the kitchen, but when Castiel pulled the cloth back it was clean. "You were feverish when I found you. Rambling. I didn't want to come here and chance getting you sick after the flu outbreak at work, but it seems that you've managed to contract it without my help. You had a very high fever, I thought that I might have to take you into the emergency room myself, but I managed to break it. How does your head feel?"

"Like I cracked it open like a damn egg...," he groaned, trying to rifle back through his memories of what had happened. He could remember most of it, the nurse and the heart monitor-now that he knew what the beeping noise was-and how he had hit the floor like a rock and felt like he'd died. How Castiel had found him. It was fuzzy, but still there and he wondered when he'd managed to contract the flu. He'd gone to work as usual, maybe one of the customers passed it along to him?

"I would imagine so, you hit your head on the tile, there's a knot. I was afraid you might be concussed." As if on cue, Dean reached up to touch his forehead where it throbbed, flinching a bit when his fingers touched a tender knot just along his hairline. "You frightened me. You said that you had died, Dean. What happened?"

Where did he even begin? How could he tell Castiel about the nurse and the nightmares he'd been having without him thinking he was certifiable? He couldn't blame the dreams and the hallucinations on the flu that he had apparently contracted since it was only just recently, but what else could he do? He knew that Castiel was scared, he could see it in his eyes and it was just too exhausting trying to make excuses for himself anymore. He would have to come clean sooner or later or they could never really have a stable relationship. He wasn't exactly lying to Castiel, but he hadn't been entirely honest with him either and that would come between them one day. "It's hard to explain," Dean muttered, laying back on the pillows again when his head started to throb even worse.

"Try."

Try to explain. It was all Castiel had ever asked him for and it was the least he could give him back after everything. Dean took a deep breath, wincing a bit when it made his head throb even more. He started over from the very beginning, the first time he had ever seen the nurse on the car lot, to the horrible nightmares he'd been having about her. Castiel seemed honestly concerned about the whole ordeal, but he never interrupted him or even looked at him like he was crazy. Dean had expected a bit more skepticism, but he just sat there staring at him in complete silence. When he started to recount what had happened in the kitchen, it seemed to hit him a little harder. He could see the exact moment when his gaze hardened a bit as he told him about the nurse shouting about him going into shock and the sudden realization that the beeping was a heart monitor.

"It's...crazy. I know it sounds crazy-" Dean sighed, reaching up to rub the knot on his forehead gently only to have his hand pulled away by Castiel a second later. "-I don't know what's fucking wrong with me. I mean, it's not just this flu crap going around. And if I've got it, you need to get away from me, I don't want you getting sick too."

"Dean, you're not crazy because you have nightmares... And I've been inoculated, I won't contract it," Castiel sighed, dabbing at his forehead again with the wash cloth from earlier. Dean wanted to swat his hand away, but the cool material actually felt nice on the throbbing knot protruding from his skull.

"Okay, but how do you explain her being at the car lot? And tonight I guess was the flu, but still, I know I saw her on the car lot first."

"It is entirely plausible that you did, Dean. You weren't entirely there when I arrived that day to being with, you were exhausted from working long hours and you must have thought she just vanished, but it was just a normal woman roaming around the lot that day. And since she obviously startled you that day, your mind was recreating her in your nightmares, then this whole incident with your fever-Dean you are not crazy. It was just a series of very coincidental and entirely _possible_ chain of events." Dean just laid there on the bed, squinting up at Castiel from the pillows for a very long time before he finally nodded and just accepted it. Really, what other explanation was there for it? He was going insane? Or he was being haunted by a dead nurse? He certainly didn't feel insane any other time of the day, everything was fairly mundane even. And that was just the way he liked it. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Castiel and sleep, have breakfast in the morning together and just go on being happy. Was that so much to ask? "You should rest Dean."

"Don't wanna-" he yawned lightly, reaching a hand up to grab Castiel by the wrist. "-if I go to sleep, you'll leave."

Castiel shook his head lightly, using his other hand to get rid of the washcloth and scooted farther onto the bed with him. "No, Dean. Not this time. I'm not going back into work for a couple of days. I'm going to stay here with you until I am certain you're better. If your condition gets any worse, I'll have to take you into the hospital." Dean just nodded again, his eyes drooping closed as Castiel snuggled onto the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his chest and pulling him closer. He wanted to take his word for it that he'd be there when he woke up this time, but he would always fear being alone. All he could do was try to sleep and see what the morning had in store.


	6. Just Like Going To Sleep

Castiel worked in a hospital, he was around people that were sick all the time so Dean assumed that he could be trusted when he mentioned that he must have contracted the flu that had been going around, except...Dean really didn't _feel_ sick. There was no fever, no aches and pains that came along with the flu. By all accounts, it didn't make sense, but there was nothing he could really do about it. He stayed in bed where Castiel had confined him, mainly because if he didn't argue, Castiel stayed by his side and doted after him. He'd take being treated like he was sick even if he wasn't if it meant that Castiel would stay with him. That was the one and only reason he was putting up with any of it. And at first it really wasn't all that bad, Castiel would sit with him and they would talk about what was happening at work, why Castiel had been away so often. Apparently he'd gotten in trouble by his boss over something? He'd mentioned being reprimanded and Dean wondered if maybe it was because of him. Maybe he'd been taking up too much of Castiel's time and he wasn't doing his job properly anymore.

It wasn't until he was well into the second day that everything seemed to come crashing down on him. He suddenly felt stiff and sore. His head throbbed painfully every time he opened his eyes and was assaulted with sunlight. He found it difficult to focus on anything, even when Castiel was there at his side trying to talk to him. His voice sounded distorted more often than not and Dean could only ever make out every other word. Eventually, he couldn't even stay conscious and he slept through most of the day. Opening his eyes in the darkened room was easier on his head, but his bedroom looked strange. The walls were different somehow, horrible wallpaper instead of the slate blue colored paint he'd covered the walls in when he first moved in. There were generic pictures of flowers hanging over his bed where the window should have been and the sheets he was laying on felt more like plastic than cotton. Everything was uncomfortable and his head was spinning.

"Dean, you're awake?" Castiel whispered, drawing his attention to his beside. All of his furniture looked the exactly the same, but sitting in the middle of a hospital room instead. Both rooms bleeding together and it hurt his head to try and tear them apart. "Are you feeling any better?"

"God, no, no-" Dean grumbled, reaching out blindly toward his voice. He was thankful that he was met with warm hands gripping his, thumbs smoothing over the backs of his hands softly. "My head-Cas I feel like hell."

"I know, I know and I apologize," Castiel murmured, leaning closer to him so that he could kiss his forehead lightly. He should have told him to stay back, to keep him from catching whatever the hell it was he had, but he knew that he wouldn't go away. "You are getting worse Dean, there is nothing I can do for you at this point. You have to understand, I have done everything I can..."

"Does that mean-I gotta go to the hospital? I hate hospitals." Castiel was quite for a moment, glancing around the room and Dean tried his best to focus on his face despite how blurry his vision was. He looked like he was in pain, his face set into a mask of pure shame and Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. "Cas? What's wrong?"

"Dean, you are _already_ in the hospital. I couldn't contain it any longer-you must understand-"

Dean tore his eyes away from Castiel's face, forcing himself to focus on the room no matter how badly it hurt his head. He could still see his own room blending with a hospital room he was sure he'd seen somewhere in his nightmares and it made him feel uneasy. The more and more he looked at it, the less and less it looked like his own room. Things started to vanish that had been there for years, replaced by cheap hospital furniture and decor. Things that no one in their right mind would ever put in their house. His bed was no longer the comfortable king sized, memory foam mattress he had insisted on getting even if it was a little too big for the room. It was no larger than a full, adjustable with rails on either side that lowered to allow the person to get up and move around. He was in literal hell and he couldn't remember how he had gotten there. If he had taken a turn for the worse at the house, Castiel had to have called an ambulance to take him to the hospital or maybe he'd braved driving him himself.

"How long?" Dean croaked, blinking to try and keep his mind from recreating things from his own bedroom and forcing them into the room again. It was easier to focus when he settled on one particular setting instead of the two clashing.

"A few days. Dean I-"

Castiel's voice cut off suddenly when the door to the room popped open, Dean's heart lurching up into his chest when he pictured the nurse coming through the door, but it was a man. He could feel Castiel's fingers go rigid where he was still holding his hands as the man entered, dressed in a nice black suit, shaven head and dark skin. He looked intimidating and Dean thought to ask who the hell he was and why he was just letting himself into his room, but he figured that maybe it was his doctor. Castiel was only an anesthesiologist after all.

"Castiel," the man sighed heavily, folding his hands in front of him and squaring his shoulders. Castiel instantly released his hands and stepped away from Dean's side. He wanted to reach out and pull him back, but it was clear that the man was his boss and he was about to be yelled at for something. "What are you still doing here?"

"I need more time, just a little longer, Uriel," Castiel pleaded, taking a tentative step closer to the strange man. He'd never seen Castiel curl in on himself in such a way, lowering his gaze to the floor as if he were actually afraid of the man. It was difficult for Dean to watch, but he kept his mouth shut for fear of getting him fired. "He still needs me-"

"_No_." Uriel's voice was stern and dominant, insistent in a way that made Dean want to cringe away from him. Castiel did shrink back a bit, his hands twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach back over to grab Dean's again, but thought better of it. "No, Castiel. It is _you_ that needs him. You are here to do a job, finish this or _I_ will."

Uriel turned to leave the room quietly, Castiel standing beside his bed a little straighter the moment he was gone. Dean wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but it seemed like Castiel was neglecting his work to stay with Dean and that was the very last thing he wanted. This was a new job for him and Dean would never be able to live with himself if he was fired over his stupid illness. He reached up slowly to grab Castiel's hand, shaking a bit before he managed to grab a hold of him. He could feel him flinch, almost pulling away until he noticed that it was just Dean and turned to look at him sadly.

"I got you in trouble," Dean whispered, trying to tug him closer but Castiel didn't budge. He just stood there staring at him sadly and it made his chest hurt. "Cas I'm sorry."

"No Dean, this was not your fault. I overstepped my bounds and I-I was selfish enough to want to stay with you," he murmured, finally stepping closer and reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair. "The moment I met you I knew that I was going to have trouble walking away if I didn't keep my distance. And still I stayed. I was selfish Dean and I will never stop being sorry for that."

"Cas, what the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, tilting his head to the side a bit in confusion. The way he was talking, he was breaking up with him, leaving him for good and he wasn't sure what he'd done to warrant that. Honestly, they'd never really declared that they were dating, but he'd thought it was pretty obvious at the time and now...now he was breaking it off? For what? "If what I did the other day upset you, I didn't mean for it to. I won't ever do anything like it again, I swear-"

"Dean please, stop." Castiel leaned forward, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and pulling him forward so that his face was pressed against his chest. "You have done nothing wrong, you have _never_ upset me. You must believe me, I have never been happier in my entire existence than I have been with you."

"Then why are you doing this?" Dean choked, gripping Castiel's shirt so tightly he was sure it was wrinkled now. "Why are you talking like you're leaving me?"

"I would never leave you, Dean. _Never_. Unless you asked me to go, I will never leave your side."

"Good, then we're done having this conversation, cause I'm not gonna ask you to go," he demanded, nuzzling his face against his chest. "I'm fine with being selfish. You can be selfish all you want if you just _stay_."

The room fell silent and it stayed like that for a long time, Castiel combing his fingers through Dean's hair repeatedly and all he wanted to do was pull him into the bed and lay with him. To just go back to sleep until he felt better then take him home. He never wanted to step foot back in the hospital again and certainly never wanted to run across Uriel ever again. All too soon, Castiel was pulling away from him, kissing his forehead softly before he stepped back and held his hands out as if to coax him out of bed.

"Dean, there is something I need to show you. Will you walk with me?" he asked and Dean frowned. He really didn't feel like walking, but he didn't want to risk Castiel leaving without him so he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing when he realized he was in one of those flimsy hospital gowns where his ass was probably hanging out. Castiel held his hands, helping to steady him on his feet which were a lot less stable than he remembered them being. Still, it wasn't all that bad when he was able to lean against Castiel for support, walking with him slowly out into the hallway. He remembered hospitals being a lot more busy, but as they walked down the hall, it seemed almost dead. There were no real sounds that he could pick up on aside from his bare feet hitting the tile floor and it concerned him a bit. It had an empty feeling to it that reminded him too much of his dreams and he was trying his best not to panic. Castiel was with him and there was no way that he would let something bad happen to him. "Just down here, on the left."

He could see the room that Castiel was indicating to, the number "406" printed above the door. The room was well lit from what he could see through the barely open door. Castiel's grip on him tightened a bit as he eased the door open and helped him hobble into the room. Dean instantly noticed that it looked exactly the same as the room they had just left, but then again, he supposed all hospital rooms were pretty much the same. They could have at least tried to get different art work or something, everything was an exact copy, right down to the bed. Dean's entire body seized up when he first spotted the body occupying the bed, covered in bandages more than skin, a breathing tube shoved down their throat and the horrible sound of the heart monitor was beeping away, spiking a bit when he realized _what_ he was looking at. The man had the same short, dirty blonde hair as him, his jawline nearly exactly the same, but he really couldn't tell with all the bandages on him. He could clearly see the blood that was fighting to seep through the white bandages, smaller cuts littering the small portions of skin that were actually visible.

"What is this?" he croaked, his throat suddenly very dry at the sight of the breathing tube and he wished he hadn't gotten up to walk with Castiel. He wanted to go back to his own hospital bed because looking at this was too horrible to bear.

"That is...you, Dean." Castiel's voice was so level it frightened him and all he could do was shake his head no. He didn't care how much the battered man in the bed kind of resembled him, there was no way it was possible. He was standing right there, he couldn't be in two places at once. It was impossible. His stomach suddenly rolled violently, doubling him over and he was instantly sick right there on the tile floor. Castiel didn't even flinch, crouching down with him and smoothing his hand softly over his back. He wanted to jerk away from him. To tell him not to touch him unless he was going to take him out of the room because he couldn't look at that man again. "It _is_ you, Dean. You are in a coma and I-I am here to try and help you. I have been trying, this entire time, to help you with this."

His head snapped up a little too quickly, causing it to throb painfully, but he just pushed through it for the sake of figuring out what the hell was going on. Castiel was trying to convince him that he was looking at himself laying in a hospital bed, in a damn coma? Castiel just stared at him sadly, the same look he'd seen grace his face several times whenever Dean had an episode. Every single time he pulled Dean back from a nightmare or a hallucination. _Every_. _Single_. _Time_. It was always Castiel who brought him out of it and it was painfully clear that the life he had been living was not reality. The nurse coming into his room so often now made horrible sense, as well as the heart monitor and the beeping. It all made so much sense, but he didn't want to believe it. That would mean that Castiel wasn't real. That he was some figment of his imagination he'd made up to comfort himself.

"No Dean, I am not a figment of your imagination," Castiel said softly, carefully pulling him back up to his feet. "It must be so hard for you, to understand all of this, but I assure you it is all very real. The accident, your condition. All of it. And I was sent to help you transition."

"You told me you were a doctor," Dean snapped, anger welling up as the betrayal made itself known. "You're an anesthesiologist."

"That was the closest human term I could find to define what I do, yes. Please, do not be angry with me. I have never truly lied to you. Not once. I answered every question as truthfully as I could. You have to understand that I could not just simply appear and explain to you that you were dying. You would have gone into shock and it would have caused complications-"

"Complications?! I'm in a fucking coma, Cas! Is that even your real name? Who are you really? _What_ are you?"

Castiel looked momentarily hurt by his tone, but he really didn't give a shit. They guy had been lying to him for the better part of three months and he expected him to just accept everything and roll over like a damn dead dog? It wasn't going to happen and he wasn't going to try and spare anyone's feelings in the process. He was apparently dying and being lied to and he wasn't the least bit pleased with any of it. He loved Castiel, loved him ways that he was sure he probably shouldn't given the current circumstances, but he wanted straight answers.

"I am an angel. My job is to help make a soul as comfortable as possible as they come to terms with their fate and cross over into Heaven. We try to take away the pain. Hence the anesthesiologist," Castiel answered quietly, still looking rather hurt, like he had any right to be upset in the first place. Dean was the one who was dying.

"So that-_all_ of that-it was just a means to make me "comfortable"? Content? _Everything_?"

"No, no of course not. I explained this already. This was the first time I have been entrusted with a soul by myself. I overstepped my bounds, I allowed myself to-to care for you when I knew I shouldn't have. I was selfish and I wanted to keep you for myself. Three days have passed and I drew things out in your mind to have more time with you. To see you happy. I never wanted this, for you to find out. I wanted to stay like we were, but there are limits to what even I can hold back. The damage to your body was severe and while I can contain the pain, your mind is breaking down. It can no longer hold up the facade of your past life and your surroundings in the hospital began to bleed through. My time with you Dean, I meant every moment of it. I _cherish_ every moment. Please do not think that I only did what I did because it is my job. I have never viewed you that way. From the moment I met you, you have shown me nothing but kindness. There is a warmth to your soul that I could not walk away from, as well as a sadness." Castiel stopped talking for a moment, his blue eyes darting over to look at the bed and Dean almost followed his gaze, but he couldn't stand to look at it again. "The hardships you have incurred, the things that you have had to sacrifice... I wanted to give you something pleasant before you had to go. I never imagined that you would return the sentiment and I know that I do not deserve your kindness, but I have appreciated it none the less."

Dean was still having a difficult time coming to terms with what was happening. That Castiel was some sort of angel that had come to take his soul away because he was dying. He'd said that he had some sort of accident, but for the life of him, Dean couldn't remember anything happening that would have put him in this condition. He forced himself to look back at the man laying in the bed-himself laying in the bed-and just stared. There was no way for him to miss the exact replica of himself laying in the bed as battered as it was. Or maybe he was the replica, it was hard to tell at this point, everything was just so jumbled. He braved moving closer, approaching the side of the bed where the heart monitor was now beeping away in a steady rhythm, like he had finally calmed down enough to properly assess the situation. Near every inch of him was either bruised, cut or bandaged. His chest still rising and falling weakly thanks to the tube crammed down his throat and he had to bring his had up to cover his mouth to keep from vomiting again. He wasn't even sure how he could be nauseous if he wasn't even real, but he didn't care enough to question it anymore. He was dying, what did a little nausea matter?

"How?" It was the only word Dean could manage to get out at the moment, watching Castiel in peripheral vision as he moved closer on the other side of the bed, reaching down to pick up the lifeless hand laying on the mattress and Dean swore he could feel his own hand tingle a bit in response to the touch. He wasn't all gone, some part of him was still conscious in there. "How did I get like this?"

"It was a car accident. You hit a guardrail on the highway, ejected through the front windshield." Dean's chest constricted painfully, the monitor next to him beeping erratically for a moment before it evened out again.

"Was I...had I been drinking?" he asked softly, wondering how he could have crashed unless he was drunk, even though he normally never drove when he drank. He'd always promised his little brother not to.

"No. There was not a single trace of alcohol in your system when you crashed." Dean glanced over at him in confusion. If he hadn't been drinking, how in the hell did he suddenly lose control of his car and crash into a guardrail? Had an animal darted out in front of him? Another driver cutting him off? It didn't make sense. "Exhaustion. You feel asleep at the wheel. You had been pushing yourself too hard at work, long hours, little sleep. Eventually...your body just shut down."

His mind was instantly drawn back to the first morning he had spent with Castiel in his house, how he had told him that his body was under a lot of stress and that he needed to rest. How he had managed to get him to do more things that made him happy and work less. How he had simply made him look forward to the next day. To seeing him again. He wasn't ready to go; to give up the life he had started with Castiel, even if it was all in his head. He was happy with him and he had other responsibilities. His brother, the shop, things that he hadn't been able to set in order yet. He couldn't die because he wasn't finished living. But the look on Castiel's face told him that he didn't have a choice. He was going to die one way or another.

"The damage to your internal organs was far too extensive. If they had put you on a donor list, you would have never received everything you needed to live and even then there was no guarantee you would ever wake up to begin with. Coma patients vary." Dean nodded, understanding that if he was as bad off as Castiel was saying, there would be no way they'd give him donor organs. Why save one life when you could use the exact same organs to save several? It sounded cruel, but it was logical. "Sam is here."

Dean's eyes jumped back up to Castiel's face, staring at him in shock. He had never even mentioned Sam to Castiel in all the time they'd spent together, even though it hadn't been as long as he originally thought. "Sammy? He...he's here? Now?" He glanced around the room as if his brother was going to suddenly materialize, but there was no one except Dean, Castiel, and Dean's battered body laying in the bed.

"He is here in the hospital. He left the room not too long ago, before I brought you in, to get food I believe. He has been here every single day since the incident. He hardly leaves your side. Gave blood a few times, though he understood it would probably be ineffective in the long run."

"Have you-do you, talk to him?"

"I have spoken to him once. He believed I was part of the medical staff. Asked several questions I struggled to answer. He is a very smart man." Dean smirked softly, knowing damn well Sam Winchester was the smartest guy out there. He was a big time Stanford graduate, a lawyer, and Dean was more than proud of him. "You raised him well Dean. He adores you, I can tell by the way he speaks about you."

Dean laughed lightly, it was more of a desperate sound because he would have given anything to see him again. To talk to him at least one last time, but he was unconscious and there was no way he'd be able to get through to him. He could only pass a message along and that just wasn't good enough for him. He wanted Sam to hear it from him directly, to tell him that he was alright, even if he really wasn't. He wasn't, but what other choice did he have? "Does he know, that I'm still in here-there-whatever you call this?" he asked softly, reaching up to comb his fingers through his short hair.

"I explained to him that you were, comfortable. That you were not in pain. That was what he feared most aside from your imminent death. He did not want you to be in pain..."

He could certainly admit to not being in pain, not physical pain anyway. Whatever Castiel was doing to ensure he didn't hurt was working. He could tell just by looking at himself that his body had to be in a severe amount of pain, yet he felt nothing. It was for the best that he was unconscious or he was sure he'd be screaming in agony. There were probably several broken bones, obvious ruptured organs, things he never wanted to feel. "How much longer? Is it-is it going to be soon?"

Castiel rounded the bed slowly, coming closer to him warily, probably fearing that Dean was going to push him away, but he didn't see much point in it now. He'd never done anything to hurt him, Dean could see that now. Everything had been to try and make him happy and it would have if he could have continued that life. Now it was just a bittersweet memory that he would never get to experience again. "Yes. Very soon. When you went into shock this morning and flatlined, it put even more of a strain on your body. They thought you would go then, but I pulled you back as much as I possibly could. I didn't want you to go like that, while I was away."

"Where were you? Why did you keep leaving me alone, Cas?"

"Being reprimanded. They forced me away; I did not go willingly. My superiors-_Uriel_-believed that I was getting too close to you. And he was right." Castiel reached out slowly, cupping Dean's face in his hands and smoothed his thumbs over his cheekbones, causing his eyes to flutter closed for a brief second.

"I don't want to die, Cas. I want to go back, to have what we had. I want to see Sam again," he said shakily, feeling Castiel's thumb swipe away a tear that had managed to escape at some point. He really didn't even care if he was crying at that point. Nothing mattered when you were about to die at any given second and the heart monitor behind him was a grave reminder of that fact. The once steady beeps were slowing down, longer pauses between each pip and while it frightened him, he was oddly calm, probably thanks to Castiel and whatever weird angelic powers he had. "I don't wanna go."

"Dean, I would give anything to not have you face this fate. I would give _anything_, to save you." When Dean felt himself being pulled forward, he didn't fight it. Warm lips pressing against his forehead and he sobbed brokenly. It would be just his luck, after all those years of being alone he would finally find someone to love...just as he was about to die. "I wish that I could take all of this back, but I-it is not my place. If I altered life and death, there would be severe consequences to pay."

Dean nodded slowly, Castiel pulling him down a bit so that his head was tucked into the hollow of his neck, combing his long fingers through his hair like he had done so many times before. It was a comforting gesture, but all Dean could focus on was the longer and longer pauses between the beeps on the monitor. His breathing had picked up, panic setting in and he found himself clinging to Castiel's shirt tightly. "Is it going to-will it hurt?" he gasped, Castiel's fingers petting him softly.

"No, of course not. It will be like going to sleep," Castiel cooed, lips pressing against his temple and as if on cue, Dean's eyes slowly started to droop closed as another long pause filled the room. "I am here with you, Dean. Sam is here, even if you cannot see him. You are not alone and it will be peaceful."

He kept waiting to hear the next beep, to feel his heart beat just one last time. Anything. But all he was left with was the shrill continuous sound of the heart monitor flatlining and the sense of drowsiness that was quickly pulling him under. He'd tried to call out to Castiel one last time, even to Sam, but he couldn't find his voice and he knew he was already gone. Darkness consumed the very edges of his vision until there was nothing left. No light. No sound. No panic. No feeling of Castiel holding him close. Just an endless void that he seemed to be suspended in and he hoped that it wasn't Heaven. Castiel had mentioned it was his job to help him cross over and he wished he had asked what it would be like before he ran out of time. He wished he'd stowed the bitterness and the anger long enough to ask the important questions, but the time for that was long passed. All he could do now was pray that he was on to a better place and that Sam would be alright without him. He was a smart kid, he'd make it through somehow. And maybe if he was going on to Heaven, he might see Castiel again. He'd said he was an angel after all. It wouldn't be all bad. Peaceful, that was the word Castiel had used and he could-after years of struggling-_finally_ rest.


	7. Can't, Or Won't?

Death was certainly an uncomfortable thing, not particularly painful, just, unpleasant. His arms and legs felt too heavy to move and he desperately wanted to roll and shift whatever hellish position he'd been stuck in for what felt like eternity. There was something itchy draped over his legs, a cord or something equally as annoying tangled with his deadened arm and something crammed into his nose that felt like it was blowing up it. He grunted a bit, finally fighting with his right hand long enough to lift it toward his face, jerking a bit when the damn cord halted his progression and a sharp pain splintered through his hand. He instantly let it fall again, trying for his opposite hand and was thankful that it didn't result in the same stabbing pain. He managed to get it closer to his face, swiping fruitlessly at the thing in his nose, but something warm gripped him by the wrist and pulled his hand back.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" a soft voice beside him muttered, pulling his hand back down.

He frowned a bit, fighting to get his eyes open long enough to see who the hell could have possibly been there with him. The space was dimly lit, which he was immensely thankful for, but it was so blurry he couldn't make out exactly what he was looking at. He could feel himself squinting to try and make things out, eyes trailing over where he knew his legs should be but he could only see a mass of fuzzy white. When he finally managed to turn his head in the direction the voice had come from, he was met with another blurry vision of a man sitting next to him. Long dark hair and wide eyes watching him with concern. He was still holding Dean's hand as if to keep it away from his face and he just tilted his head a bit in confusion. He looked familiar, but he was too blurry to place and it was making his head hurt trying to work it out.

"Dean, hey man, it's me," the man said warily, his voice low as if he were trying not to startle him or aggravate the pounding headache he had. Dean knew that voice anywhere, but it just didn't seem possible.

"Sammy?" The man beside him smiled bright, finally releasing his hand and Dean instantly went back to try and remove the annoying thing off of his face. Sam sighed heavily, grabbing his wrist again and pulled him away.

"No, Dean, leave that alone," he demanded, reaching up with his free hand to adjust the thing where he'd managed to swipe it loose. "It's oxygen, you need it. I know it's uncomfortable, but please leave it."

He frowned lightly, blinking several times to clear his vision, glancing down at himself. He was laying in a hospital bed, covered in a white blanket. His right hand had an IV jammed in it, which explained the previous sharp pain. There were several bandages wrapped around his forearm and they itched terribly, but he knew if he tried to scratch at them, Sam would just pull his hand back. His entire body was sore and he couldn't really remember much aside from thinking he was dead. Still, he was aware enough not to blurt that out to Sam.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice rough from what felt like weeks of not being used, his throat a little dry now that he thought about it. He swallowed roughly, Sam reaching for something out of his field of vision for a moment before he produced a cup of water and helped him to take a drink so that he didn't have to pull his hands up again. It was amazing how Sam just knew what he needed without him needing to say anything.

"You were in a car accident. They told me you must have fallen asleep driving. You lost control of the car and hit a guardrail out on the highway. It-it was bad Dean," Sam said quietly, setting the cup of water aside. "You went through the windshield, you-" Sam cut himself off, coughing lightly and reached up to rub his hand across his face. It was easy to see that it was difficult for him to talk about it and Dean had half a mind to tell him to just leave it and he would figure it out later, but he just drew in a deep breath and continued on. "You've been in a coma for a few weeks, I didn't think you were ever going to wake up and you needed a lot of blood. I gave as much as they would let me..."

Everything that Sam was telling him sounded familiar in ways he couldn't place. He'd heard that explanation before somewhere, he just couldn't remember where. Dean shifted a bit where he sat, groaning at the pain it caused and instantly decided it wasn't worth it. Every inch of him hurt and now he knew why. He reached up with his right hand, slowly this time so he wouldn't aggravate his IV and grabbed for Sam's hand. "Sammy, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, I-"

"You're running yourself into the ground Dean! That's what happened," Sam snapped, frowning at him. "Bobby told me what you've been doing. How he comes in to open the shop and you're still there, sleeping at your desk like that's really healthy. Working all these late hours, driving home at two in the morning-what did you think was going to happen? You can't keep doing this to yourself. Damn it Dean, what do you think killed dad?"

"I have to work Sam, I have responsibilities to take care of."

"Like what, Dean? What is more important than your _life_?"

"The shop. You? I dunno Sammy, I didn't do it on purpose!" Dean winced suddenly when he accidentally raised his voice, sending a new wave of pain down his spine and Sam instantly pulled his hand away from him and reached up to press something on the wall. After a moment, a woman's voice echoed through a small speaker and Sam informed her that he was awake and that he was in pain. "I'm not in pain," he grumbled stubbornly, watching as Sam gave him a perfect bitch face and sat back in his chair.

"You flew through a _windshield_, Dean. It's completely understandable to be in pain. You're lucky, the doctors said it was some kind of miracle that your organs weren't torn to shit. Broken bones, lot of blood loss, cracked your head on the asphalt," Sam mumbled, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "You should have died and I don't know how it happened, but you survived and I'm so damn happy you did. Maybe you got a guardian angel or somethin' man."

* * *

><p>Dean was stuck in the hospital for what felt like years. They had to run tests, deal with his broken arm and ankle, a shit ton of physical therapy and crap he didn't want to have to deal with. He refused to take the pain killers they prescribed him when they gave him terrible headaches. He could deal with a few aches and pains if it meant his head wasn't pounding at the same time. Ibuprofen worked well enough and he had that in spades at home. Sam was with him damn near every day, helping him along even through all of his bitching. Bobby and Ash stopped in often enough. Jo and Ellen. But Dean continually felt like there was someone missing. There were days when he would watch the door to his hospital room, waiting for it to open and someone he'd been missing to walk in. Still, it was always the same people, the same few nurses. And Dean just kept waiting for someone he couldn't even remember.<p>

It took nearly three months for his bones to heal well enough to get around on his own and start driving again. Since he couldn't really even remember the wreck, it didn't bother him to get back behind the wheel of his baby. Bobby and Ash had worked non-stop to restore the front end of the car and windshield where it had been nearly demolished in the wreck and quite honestly, Dean couldn't tell the difference. At first he didn't even bother going back to work, leaving everything in Bobby's hands while he recovered. He never really went anywhere except the store or sometimes the diner. He'd stopped in the Roadhouse a few times just to talk to Ellen, but other than that, he stayed home. Sam was hanging around like a stale fart, afraid that if he left before Dean was well enough that he would just fall right back into his old routine at work.

"Dean, where you off to?" Sam asked, shoving his clothes into his suitcase as he prepared to leave the next morning. Dean was starting to get restless lingering around the house, anxiously watching the front door for reasons he couldn't quite explain and didn't even try to talk to Sam about. The last thing he needed was for Sam to think that he was waiting for some imaginary person that didn't even exist. He couldn't remember a single solid detail about the person, there was just a lingering emptiness in his chest that he desperately wanted to get rid of and he had a good feeling that finding the person was the only thing that was going to fix it.

"Just gonna drive around a bit, maybe stop in the shop, see how Bobby is doing. I'll be back in like, an hour. That alright?" he asked, entirely serious when he asked if it was alright. If Sam didn't want him going, he'd stay just to spare him the worry. He'd nearly gotten himself killed and that had put enough stress on the guy and he wasn't about to add to that anymore.

"Yeah, just, take it easy?"

"Yeah Sammy, I got it. If I get hung up anywhere, I'll call."

Sam let him go without much fussing, it was midday on a Sunday, not much traffic out and about and Dean could drive around slowly without really having to worry about anyone. Since his accident, Dean hadn't been on the highway where he crashed once. He took his time and drove slowly, knowing that there was something out there that was important, even if he didn't know what it was right off the bat. He thought that maybe driving along down it would jog his memory somehow, searching each stretch of the railing as he drove past to see exactly where it had all happened. Sure it had been cleaned up months ago, but there was a distinctly new patch of metal along one of the strips of guardrail around the midway point on the highway about the side of the front end of his Impala.

Dean pulled off onto the shoulder and parked the car, stepping out slowly and made his way over to the railing, running his hand along the shiny silver metal with a frown. He couldn't remember crashing at all, but he could remember everything right up until leaving work the night they told him it happened. The time between that and waking up was all a blur and he was trying so hard to piece it back together. Nothing about the crash sight really stood out to him, so much time had passed that there was hardly any evidence there was even a wreck there in the first place. Dean sighed heavily, turning to face the highway and leaning back against the railing. For days he'd been trying to remember the forgotten person that had seemed to vanish completely from his life, picking out small details here and there. Dark hair, blue eyes that didn't quite seem natural, something about a car. There was a good chance that he was just remembering some person that had brought their car into the shop some time before his accident, but it seemed more significant than that. More _important_.

He stood there for longer than he cared to think about, turning over every detail in his head until he came up with some off the wall scenario of a busted radiator hose on a rental car, a blue Toyota of all things, something that had been such an easy fix and had lead to something else entirely. He could remember the mans face very faintly, but his name was lost to him. Dean couldn't even remember why he had been so important in the first place, but he kept trying to figure it out. It was some detail that he was missing and it literally caused his chest to hurt. That was something else he'd never been able to tell Sam about. Mysterious chest pains over a man that probably didn't exist wasn't really a good thing to go telling your baby brother after nearly biting it. But that didn't stop him from thinking about him. It would keep him up nights, laying there trying to figure out who the hell he was missing.

"This is really damn frustrating, y'know?" he sighed, talking to no one in particular. He hoped no one happened past on the highway while he was standing there talking to himself like a crazy person. "I know I'm not nuts, I know you're real and I just-I can't remember your damn name. You gotta give me somethin' here man. _Anything?"_

He hadn't really been expecting a response, standing there on the empty highway in the middle of the day, talking to empty space. Maybe the wreck had fucked with his brain more than he'd originally thought? Maybe the mystery man really didn't exist and he'd just made it all up in his mind to help him cope. It certainly didn't feel like that, but what else could it have been? Shaking his head, he turned and headed back toward his car, cramming his hands into his pockets as he went, kicking at the gravel aimlessly. It wasn't until he neared the front end of the car that he felt a soft breeze ruffle that back of his hair, a fluttering sound he could only describe as wings piercing the silence around him and Dean just froze. Everything seemed to stop, time itself halting as he struggled to find his breath, turning ever so slowly back toward the guardrail. He knew him without even seeing his face, the man standing there in the space Dean had just occupied with that silly tan trench coat on and dark windswept hair. He was inspecting the rail, running his hands over the patched metal slowly, as if he needed to remember every little detail of it for later. Dean just stood there gawking at him for the longest time, unable to find words that wouldn't ruin the moment. He was afraid if he spoke, the man would vanish. That he would fade into nothingness and he would be left alone again.

"Hello, Dean," the man said evenly. That tone of his still as sharp and precise as he remembered it and it made Dean's heart ache at the sound of it. All at once the memories came flooding back, the time that they had spent together lining itself up in his mind, one crisp image at a time. The broken down Toyota, the bar, breakfast, sharing a bed, the shower. All of it right down to his last few moments in the hospital when he'd assured Dean that dying was like going to sleep. Except, Dean hadn't died, he'd _woken up_. "I understand how confusing this must be for you, to be here after everything, but I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't watch you die."

He finally turned to look at him, his face just as perfect as Dean remembered it, all dark scruff and blue eyes. He took a staggered step back toward him, pulling his hands from his pockets and reached out toward him a bit, his body trembling. Either he'd died and gone to Heaven, or the angel was real and he had somehow managed to save him from death even though he'd said that he couldn't. That there would be consequences. He watched the angel closely as he meandered closer to the front end of Dean's car, running his fingers along the sleek black finish where it had once been dented and mangled.

"Cas, you-" Dean muttered, taking a step closer. "I thought you said-_how_?"

"I couldn't do it, let you go. It was selfish of me, I've denied you paradise for a great many more years, but I could not watch you die. I healed the majority of your wounds against orders, fixed as much internal damage as I could so that the hospital could take care of the remainder. Altered memories. I did whatever it took to give you your life back. You are a _good_ man, Dean. You did not deserve your fate. And I hope that you will not waste this second chance you've been given."

"Altered memories? Is that why I couldn't remember you at first? You tried to _erase_ yourself from my memories?"

"Tried, being the operative word, Dean. I tried to erase myself, but it appears you remembered me none the less. I thought it would be best if you didn't remember what could have been..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped suddenly, the angel tilting his head at him slightly as if he didn't understand the sudden sharpness in his tone. "You're doing that "I'm leaving" kinda talk again, don't give me that bullshit. You're here now, you wouldn't be if you didn't want to be here. And you can't tell me you came down here just to say goodbye, don't do that shit."

"Dean, I am an angel...," Castiel said softly, pulling his hand away from the Impala and tucked it into the pocket on his coat. "I was not meant to walk among men. I've been suspended from all my duties because of this, because of you. And before you feel bad about it, I want you to know that I knew the repercussions before hand and I gave your life back gladly. I would have accepted being stripped of my wings for the chance to piece you back together and see you smile again. The world is a better place with you in it, Dean. You have affected so many lives around you in a positive light. They would have been lost without you. Sam especially. And to know that I gave them back the best gift they could ever be given, I am more than happy to accept my punishment in light of that."

"So, that's it? You just slap a bandaid on me and turn me loose? What am I supposed to do now?"

Castiel sighed heavily, his chest heaving with the action and he had the damn nerve to shrug. Dean just stared over at him in disbelief. After everything that had happened, all he could manage was a _shrug_?

"Live? Be happy? Move on with your life and do so safely? Whatever it is that you want to do, do it Dean. Do not waste your time driving your body into the ground over something as simple as a job. I know what you can find a better balance between work and relaxation-"

"No, shut up!" Dean growled, stepping into Castiel's personal space and was amazed to find he didn't flinch back. He was an immovable wall. Now that Dean knew the truth of what he was, it was easy to see it in way he held himself. Sturdy and strong, pure power and light bundled into a beautiful package and Dean should have had the sense to be afraid of him, but he couldn't find it in him. He was more afraid of losing him than anything else. "There is no living, no happy, no doing what I want-not if it means you leaving. None of that exists without you, ya hear me? _None_ of it. If living means I have to give you up, then I don't want it. Take it back, put me back in the coma. Let me live there with you, because this-" He drummed his hand on his chest over his heart to make a point. "-this wouldn't exist without you. So take it back, put me back...just don't go."

Castiel swallowed harshly, casting his eyes downward for a moment as if he couldn't bear to look at him and Dean nearly reached out to jerk his face back up. How could he just expect Dean to forget about everything that had happened between them? No matter how hard Castiel tried to erase himself, parts of him still lingered. The love and tenderness between them. The way the angel had been literally starved for attention and Dean had promised to give him what he deserved if he'd let him. He'd meant every word he said in the little fantasy world Castiel had created for them inside his head, every single word and being alive again didn't change the way he felt. How hollow he felt when he woke up alone in bed. How alone he felt when he would check his phone to find nothing there, not a single message or call. How he would randomly open the front door and expect to see someone walking toward him with that lopsided smile and bright eyes. How he longed for something he couldn't place. It had all been Castiel and it was still there. Engrained in his very heart, etched into his bones. Love, pure and simple and wonderful and if it took dying to keep it, he would take it gladly.

"You would give up your life, in order to keep me?" Castiel asked seriously and Dean nodded without hesitation. "Sam, your job, your friends? All of it, for one angel?"

"I love Sam, I love him more than my own life, but he is a strong kid. I have never, _never_, done something for me. It's always been about him and making sure he was taken care of. Well, now he's grown, he takes care of himself. I'd miss him, I won't lie and say I wouldn't, but goddamn it, Cas," he rambled, lifting his hands to cup Castiel's face, brushing his thumbs lightly over his cheekbones and reveling in the way his eyes fluttered closed. "I have never cared about someone the way I care about you and I am _not_ letting that go. Even if it kills me."

"What would you have me do?" Castiel asked softly, his eyes opening slowly. "Kill you? How could you ask that of me after everything I've gone through to ensure you live?"

"Then stay, stay here," Dean demanded, refusing to back down. "If you won't take me Heaven with you, then stay here with me."

"Dean I can't-"

"Can't, or won't?"

His eyes narrowed a bit, a small flash of hurt crossing his expression and he reached up to grab Dean by the wrists pulling his hands away from his face almost forcefully. He took a small step away from Dean, squaring his shoulders and in that very moment it was all clear. The reason Castiel had gone through so much trouble to try and erase him from Dean's mind, why he'd given him back his life without the angel in it. He didn't even need to say the words for Dean to know what his answer was going to be. "I _won't_."

Well, that changed everything. Dean flinched back from him as if he'd struck him, dropping his arms to his sides in defeat. What else could he do? What else could he possibly say? If Castiel wouldn't stay with him, there was nothing else _to_ be said. He took another step back, nodding his head lightly and turned to leave. Castiel stood there at the front end of the car, watching him stoically as he opened the driver-side door and slid behind the wheel, wasting no time starting the car and backed up slowly before he checked his mirrors and pulled out onto the empty highway, making a u-turn and headed straight back for his house. He hadn't been gone nearly as long as he'd told Sam he would be, his brother watching him cautiously as he stormed back into the house and shut himself up in his bedroom. Dean was just as confused as he had been when he left the house, except now it was accompanied by a searing grief. He didn't understand anything, why Castiel has chosen to save him-took pride in it even-why he had appeared to him on the highway if he was going to leave him alone just as he had been before. _I won't._

* * *

><p>Dean couldn't lie and say that he was glad to see Sam go. His brother had his own life to live and he'd stayed with him long enough, helping him get back on his feet after everything in his life had been turned on it's head. The house was empty again, darker than he remembered it ever being as he sat alone night after night on the couch watching crappy TV, a cold beer in his hand. He still caught himself glancing around, searching for someone he knew would never be there again. He still woke late in the night, pawing at the empty half of his bed, searching for something that he'd lost. There was a horrible emptiness to everything that he did and before long, he couldn't even be bothered to drag himself out of the house. Bobby and Ash would call about things in the shop and he would instruct them over the phone, but that was the extent of it. He thought about just handing everything over to Bobby and being done with it. Going back would be a reminder he didn't need. Maybe he would move to a new house, one where he didn't have to daydream about Castiel walking down the hallway or washing dishes at his sink. But he knew that it really wouldn't matter where he went, it wouldn't make it any better.<p>

Days passed slowly and he longed for the times when he would lose days, where everything would speed past and he couldn't remember much of the previous days. So that when he woke up in the morning, he couldn't remember sulking around the house all day or staring into the darkness of his room like Castiel was just going to appear like a ghost. He would have given anything to not remember the angel at all, that his memory really could have been altered, but he was apparently denied that luxury. Castiel had tried to erase himself and it hadn't worked, he was stuck inside Dean's head and there was nothing he could do to get rid of him. So, night after night, he just lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling in silence, waiting for something to give. He kept twisting his fingers in his sheets and relaxing them, over and over again. It made his arm ache a bit where the break had been re-set and he wondered if maybe skipping out of physical therapy early wasn't such a good thing in the long run.

"I don't get this," Dean muttered into the darkness, blinking his eyes rapidly to relieve the stinging where he'd stared too long at the ceiling. "What I did wrong. Can you just tell me that? Why go through all the trouble...if this was how we were gonna end up."

It was the first time he'd spoken out loud about Castiel since the incident on the side of highway. He didn't think that he had a right to after everything that had happened. Castiel had told him that he wouldn't stay with him, like it was something beneath him and maybe it was. He'd gotten in trouble for getting as close to Dean as he was and he'd broken major rules by healing him enough to allow him to live. For all he knew, Castiel was in some seriously deep shit. That he wouldn't stay with Dean because it would only make things worse for himself and for the life of him, he couldn't be angry at the angel. Everything he felt, it wasn't so much anger as it was abandonment. He'd thought that Castiel wanted him, all of the words they'd shared, it certainly pointed to that fact, but now that didn't seem to be the case. It was like he was done slumming it with Dean and he was going back to his golden palace in the sky where he belonged. Angels were higher beings, certainly not meant to walk among men.

Dean turned on his side, clenching his eyes closed and tried again to purge his mind of the memory of his face. Those perpetually chapped looking lips that were somehow still soft, his dark hair that you would assume would be coarse yet it felt like silk under his fingers. Each muscle and inch of beautifully tanned skin. The taste of him. He kept trying to wash it all away and it never worked. It just made him yearn for him more and all Dean could do was curl up in a ball and sob silently to himself. All alone in his tiny little house with no one to console him. He wasn't sure how long he laid there, but he must have fallen asleep at some point. He woke with a start, jerking upright in the bed, feeling like something was wrong. His bedroom door was wide open, something he hadn't let happen since waking up after his accident, it just made him nervous to have a door wide open anymore. Frowning, he pushed the blankets off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. He really wasn't afraid that someone had broken into his house and was possibly going to murder him, he just shuffled through the open door and out into the main part of the house slowly, glancing around until he spotted the figure of a man standing in the middle of his kitchen. Dean stared at him for a long time, the angel watching him just as intently as he stood there with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

"It may have been brought to my attention...," Castiel said quietly, keeping eye contact as he spoke. "That I am an idiot."

Dean just frowned over at him, shifting his weight between his feet as he turned to face the kitchen fully. "Yeah? Who told you that?" he asked hesitantly, wanting to ask so many more questions, but he decided it was best to go with whatever the angel was talking about in hopes of getting a real answer out of him eventually.

"Myself." Dean scoffed lightly at the absurdity of it, crossing his arms over his chest just to have something to do. He wasn't sure what Castiel was referring to when he basically called himself an idiot. Was he talking about the whole leaving Dean high and dry or allowing him to live? Because allowing him to live and turning around and denying him the happiness he wanted while he was alive was kind of a stupid move, he should have just let him die and gotten if over with. "No, Dean. Giving you life would never be stupid."

"Get outta my head!" Dean snapped, glaring over at him angrily and he swore he saw Castiel actually flinch. "You can't just pick shit outta people's heads."

"I apologize Dean, I do not mean to," Castiel muttered, shifting his eyes to floor as if he were ashamed of himself. "It's just-you project pain very loudly. That is the reason I am here."

"Oh, well, that make perfect sense," Dean growled, tossing his hands in the air. "So sorry I pulled you down off your fuckin' cloud. I'll try to keep the sounds of utter heartbreak to a minimum from now on."

Dean turned on his heel to head back toward his bedroom figuring he was either dreaming or that he needed to just go back to sleep because he couldn't deal with whatever game Castiel was playing at, except he slammed into something solid, almost causing him to stagger backward. Castiel's hands caught him by his biceps, holding him firmly but not painfully and he just gawked at him in confusion, unable to piece together how he'd moved from the middle of his kitchen to the hallway that quickly. Dean instantly tried to wrench himself out of the angel's hold but his might as well have been trying to move a brick wall with his bare hands. Castiel was stronger than Dean had ever given him credit for and he was staring at Dean in a way that made his knees want to give out.

"Please, do not do this-" he pleaded, his gaze turning somber. "You must understand-"

"You keep sayin' that-'I must understand'-well here's a fuckin' news flash, Cas, I _don't_ understand! I don't understand any of this bullshit and you just keep poppin' up like that makes it any better. I can't-"

"Can't, or won't?"

Dean just gawked at him in disbelief, wondering where the hell he got the nerve to try and pull that shit on him after what he'd done. He jerked against his hold again, strong enough to apparently force the angel to tighten his grip and he winced a bit at the sharp pain it caused in his re-set arm. Castiel seemed to realize he'd caused him physical pain, releasing his damaged arm like it was on fire, but still managed to hold him steadily enough with his other hand.

"I _can't_," Dean demanded, staring at him sadly. "I can't take this. Barely making it through the day, the _confusion_. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it, or-or something, Cas. I can't anymore. This shit isn't living."

"Dean, you've done nothing wrong-"

"Then _why_! Why won't you just stay here with me? I had to do something wrong for you to not want me anymore!"

Castiel set his lips into a thin line, jerking Dean forward so forcefully that when he slammed into the angel's chest he nearly had the wind knocked out of him. He could feel Castiel's arms wrap around him tightly, just enough to keep him from getting free without crushing him. They stood there for a long time, Castiel just holding him and Dean wasn't sure what to do with himself. He just stared over his shoulder into the dark hallway, trying to keep himself from breaking down right then and there. His heart was thudding pathetically in his chest and it reminded him of dying again, how the heart monitor had began to slow down until there was nothing left.

"I told you that I was an idiot, will you please listen to my reasoning?" Castiel whispered against his ear and Dean nodded despite himself. "I told you that I would not stay here with you and I meant it. I assumed that it was the best course of action, for you to be with your own kind. I thought that if I stayed, it would only cause complications in your life. I am not human Dean, I do not understand most of your human customs or contraptions. I did not wish to place that burden on you after all of the stress you have already suffered. I thought that you would be able to move on and I...was an idiot. You did not pull me away from any cloud, I have not left earth since you woke up in the hospital. I have been here this entire time, watching over you. It took me nearly five seconds after you left me on the side of the highway to realize that I was wrong..."

"Then why didn't you come back sooner? It's been days-"

"You were quiet. In pain, yes, but quiet. I did not think you would want to see me again after I hurt you so badly. And tonight, when you called out to me, I could not stay hidden any longer. I wanted to explain myself, to give you the answers you deserve. I will never stop wanting you, Dean. Please believe me when I tell you that."

Dean had been standing there like a rigid plank in Castiel's arms as the angel spoke, trying his best not to break down, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to be able to keep that up. He could feel his knees start to tremble, his hands shaking as he slowly reached up to grab Castiel's coat, twisting his fingers into the coarse fabric and pulled him as close as he possibly could. Dean buried his face into the side of his neck, clenching his eyes closed and just breathing him in. That scent that was purely Castiel, something he would never be able to get enough of as long as he drew breath.

"Stay with me," he sobbed, clinging to him like his life depended on it. "Don't leave me alone again."

"Never, I will never leave you alone again Dean. Hell could not pull me away."


End file.
